


Killing Me Softly With His Song

by awfullynotsorry



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: A Star Is Born songs, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Hudson University, It's For a Case, John Plays the Guitar, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of songs, Plot Twists, Rimming, Sex, Sherlock Plays the Violin, Teacher John Watson, Teacher Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awfullynotsorry/pseuds/awfullynotsorry
Summary: Teacher AUSherlock and John meet as teachers at Hudson University. They both have demons, they both have problems, they both have secrets. Is love going to be enough?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This is a teacher AU, however not as AU as you might think. Read on! :-)

> **“And suddenly you know… It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of new beginnings.”**

* * *

John Watson is a normal guy. Just that. A normal guy. At least, that is what he forces himself to believe every morning as he sets off to work. John always believed he was meant to help people hence his choice to be a doctor, a doctor in the army, even. When he was invalidated home after getting shot, his life seemed to not carry any meaning until he met Mary Morstan. John had lived quietly and happily with Mary for a few years until she died tragically in a car accident. The doctors at the hospital tried to save her life but it was unfortunately too late. Later that night, they informed him that Mary was pregnant. John, who is still not very good at grieving, decided to leave the city and find a job in the countryside. And that is how he ended up here, 38 years old, in a shitty cottage at the countryside. He lives near the surgery where he works and cycles to it every morning. He does not like his job all that much, he misses the thrill of the army but at least his job pays the bills. When he first moved here, he was not interested in anything nor anyone until he met Sarah, a beautiful woman at his office. They had started seeing each other gradually and John had been clear he was not looking for anything serious but here he was, with Sarah practically living with him. John knew she was not the one, and on some level, he thought she must know as well. At least, it sure seems that way because the conversation they are having now is going in that direction.

“I just don’t understand, John. Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t want me to move in with you? Isn’t that what happy couples do? Move in together, get married, start a family? Isn’t that what you want? Or is it just that you don’t want it with me?” Sarah seems mad at him but she is crying and John hates seeing women crying because of him.

“Look, Sarah… It’s not… Let’s not lie to each other.” John tries, reaching for her hand. John always tries to end things with respect and politeness and he will do nothing different today.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Sarah adds, searching for his eyes “I thought we were going somewhere. Maybe not marriage, but certainly moving in together seemed like an appropriate thing to do.”

John cannot help but scoff at her remark, “Appropriate? You don’t move in with someone because it is appropriate. You move in with someone because you cannot imagine spending one minute apart from that person, because you want to spend every minute with this person. And I am sorry, Sarah, I really am…” John takes her hand and looks directly into her eyes before adding “This is just not what this is.”

Sarah seems to think about it and collects her stuff and leaves. In the end, she did not put much of a fight, which leads John to believe she saw he was right. He feels bad for hurting her nonetheless but he would not be himself if he did not feel remorse.

_Time to move on to something new_ he thinks to himself as he pours his fourth glass of whiskey. He starts to look at job offers on a website and nothing seems to interest him enough to apply. He thinks about going back to the city and searches for jobs over there. After a few minutes, he begins to think that he wants a new challenge. Fortunately for him, in his young days, he had taken a double major at his university. He is a doctor, of course. But he also obtained a doctorate in literature back in the day and granted he was made fun of because of it, it could be very useful to him in his search for a job. Teaching always intrigued him and he finds a few job offers in different universities in the city. One Hudson University has an open spot for the semester that starts in September, which would give him a few days to get settled in the city. He applies online and goes to bed, a bit drunk but hopeful anyway.

He wakes up to his mobile ringing loudly in his room. He picks it up a bit mad that someone would call this early. “Hello?” His voice sounds a bit hoarse. He clears his throat before trying again, “Hello?”

“Um, hello. Am I speaking with Doctor Watson?” a male’s voice asks.

John inquires a bit sleepy and disoriented, “Yes, this is he. What is this about?”

“It is about the job offer at Hudson University. You applied to be our new literature professor. Are you still interested in the position?”

John is a bit surprised that they are calling back so soon but goes with it. “Yes, actually. I would be very happy to be considered for the job.” John says with his best smile, like it could be seen through the phone.

“In fact, I was calling to interview you. I am the chancellor and was impressed with your resume. You do seem a bit overqualified, but if you want the job, I would like to ask you a few questions.”

John is quick to reply. “Of course, yeah, sure.”

“Alright. Just a few questions and then we’ll get you here to fill out some forms. First, why do you want to teach?”

John thinks about it for a few seconds but the answer comes to him easily. “It will sound corny but actually… I just believe that teaching makes a difference. You can change someone’s life just by showing up and doing your job. And one at a time, I believe you can make an impact that can change the world. It’s a bit cliché but my father was a teacher and I always admired what he was able to instil in his students. Anyway…” He stops, wondering if he just screwed up by saying something like that and takes a deep breath.

“That’s a very good answer, Doctor Watson. I share your point of view on this matter. Now, moving on to another question. What would be your goal as a literature professor at our institution?”

John clears his throat, not feeling sleepy anymore “It’s simple. Quite simple, in fact. If you have seen my resume, you know I served in the army. My only way to evade sometimes was to read a good book. For just a little while, I could forget where I was and feel empowered through someone’s else words and, in the army, feeling powerless is a frequent thing. I would love to show my students how words, how a book can improve your life when everything else seems to be failing. When I lost my wife… A good book was a good way to help me forget just for a little while. In a way, I guess I just want to share my love of words with my students and if I succeed in making at least one student read more, I would consider my teaching a success.” John plays a bit on the personal side but sympathy never hurts. He could not have been more sincere than that anyway.

“I see… Well, Doctor Watson. I would like to get you to come here and fill up some official forms for your employment. The job is yours if you want it. We can discuss your salary when you come here. When would be a good time for you?”

John cannot believe he is being offered a position, even less so a new beginning. “I could come down later in the afternoon, this would also give me a chance to find some accommodation in the city and all. Does 3 work for you?” John cannot help but smile.

“Of course, Doctor Watson. My office is in building R. Just ask for Mister Mycroft Holmes upon your arrival and someone will lead you to my office. See you later.” John smiles again and says goodbye.

He gets up and goes to shower. He thinks about what his new life could offer him and cannot help but think about the chancellor’s weird name. At least, he will not forget it. Once cleaned up and properly dressed, wearing his favourite jumper, he packs a few things for a few days to get settled and will come back for the rest once he has found accommodation. Before leaving, he looks at his guitar case and decides to bring it. He should also check to sell his house. He takes the morning train to the city and arrives shortly before lunch. He checks in the nearest hotel. He finds his room and puts his things on the bed for the time being. He pulls out his laptop to look up some flats and a place for lunch.

John is quite an efficient man and is proud to arrive at the university with fifteen minutes to spare. Not only did he find a nice flat close from here, he also got around to find someone to sell his house in the country. Everything is working out nicely. He finally finds Building R and there is a huge lobby. There is a secretary, who is quite his type in physical terms. Petite, brunette and a nice smile.

He walks up to her and puts on his best smile. “Hi, I am here to see Mister Holmes, please.”

Just then, the secretary looks up. “Oh, he is right there behind you I think.” She smiles at the guy behind John.

John turns around and finds himself without words. The man who seems to have heard his name has just looked up and he is out of this world. He is beyond beautiful, he has the most beautiful hair and eyes John has ever seen, he is wearing a tailor-made suit that fits him exquisitely and John finds himself taken aback by how much he wants to put his hands in the man’s curly hair.

_Breathe, Watson. _John clears his throat before saying “Oh, hi.”

The man scoffs. He looks behind John at the secretary. “Oh, Molly. This man is not looking for me. He is looking for my brother. He just got a job interview and Mycroft offered him the job without meeting with him first. I present to you the new literature professor.”

The man surely does not seem pleasant. He even scoffs when saying the word literature, as if it was the most terrible word in the world.

John inquires, “Oh, you know about me, then?”

“Not at all, I just deduced it. My brother often hires incompetents to fill in the spots before the semester starts.” The man says with a grudge.

John cannot contain his anger at this remark, “What?”

Just then, the secretary coughs something and adds “That’s not nice, Sherlock. Give him a chance, would you, before judging him.”

John looks at her at a loss for words and in that moment, the man whose name was revealed to be Sherlock actually makes eye contact for the first time. Sherlock looks at him in a way that makes John feel uneasy and he finds himself shifting his weight, adjusting himself.

“Right, then. Can I see Mycroft Holmes, please?” John demands, clearing his throat once more. He can still feel Sherlock’s eyes on him.

“Of course. Follow me.” Sherlock then says, out of nowhere. John does not question him anymore and follows the man to lead him to his brother, apparently.

They walk around for a few minutes and find themselves before someone’s door. Sherlock looks at him again. Sherlock turns around and seems to try to find the right words. “You play the guitar. That’s nice.” Sherlock tells him and John is actually surprised.

John cannot help but ask “I’m sorry, how did you know?”

A voice says from the corner “Oh… I see you have met my unpleasant brother.”. This looks like this might be Mycroft Holmes from the tone of his voice.

“Um, yes,” John replies, not making eye contact but not denying that the man before him was a bit rude.

“Come with me, Doctor Watson. We shall see about your papers.” John then follows Mycroft and completes everything he has to. By the end of the meeting, Mycroft keeps him and looks at him in a weird way.

“Doctor Watson, may I ask you something?” He then says, and John thinks this must be a personal issue if he didn’t ask during the interview and the filling out of the forms.

“Of course.” He adds in a reassuring tone “Anything.”

“My brother. Why did he lead you to my office? Did you pay him or something?”

At this, John laughs, thinking this must be a joke. When he looks into Mycroft’s eyes, he can see that the man was not kidding. “Oh, no. He just offered to take me.”

Mycroft could kill him with the look he is giving him “Okay, then. Don’t tell me.”

John hesitates but then gives him the whole story, “I am not kidding, he was being an arrogant sod… Sorry. And then he just said that I should follow him. And that’s what I did.”

Mycroft seems to think about it for a minute and says “I know you are not lying to me, Doctor Watson. I know how to read people. That’s how I know you’re not lying. But what I don’t understand is that my brother would volunteer to show you the way. My brother does not care for anyone but himself and never in his life he would lead someone somewhere just for doing so. I choose to believe your version of the story today. I hope you find your job here satisfying. Good luck.” Mycroft finally shakes his hand and leads him out of the building.

* * *

John spends the next few days sorting his things out and moving back to the city into his new flat. He cannot help but think about the two brothers he met. They were a bit weird, but not in a bad way. Just intriguing. Particularly, Sherlock. But how could they even tell so much about him? Anyway, he is set to begin working next Monday and he will get answers one way or another. For once in his life, he finds himself very excited about the magic of new beginnings.

* * *

His first day goes by fairly quickly and he loves teaching his first class. He leaves building T, where he was teaching and wants to go back to his office, in building R. He cannot seem to find his way back. He walks around campus, undeniably lost. He sits on a bench and takes a breath, hoping to find his bearings. He sees that Sherlock is walking in his direction and calls his name. Sherlock comes over, looking annoyed.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Mister Holmes. I just need help finding my way back to building R. I seem to be lost.” He smiles at him, turning on the Watson charm, hoping it might work to soothe things between them and make Sherlock agree to help him. Sherlock seems to be looking at him like he did the other day and John is a bit uncomfortable.

Sherlock appears to clear his throat and looks down, before looking back up again. “Sherlock. Mister Holmes is my brother. Now, tell me how a soldier gets lost on campus.”

John is a bit taken aback and wonders “Okay, how do you do that? How can you tell those things about me? We don’t know each other. Did you stalk me?”

Sherlock takes a breath, visibly exasperated “Oh, no, John. I simply observe. The guitar, I knew because I saw your fingers. I also know that you must be quite a singer judging by the way you speak. I also know you were living in the countryside and a breakup made you want to change your lifestyle. You moved to the countryside… two years ago after something tragic happened, can’t tell what it was but it must have been big because you are a man of the city. You have been back from the war for 4 years and found life a bit boring. You were a soldier but more importantly, a doctor. And now you are here, and you wanted something new. You wanted to make a change and found this job and applied, even if you are overqualified. The pay is good and you find yourself liking teaching young minds. You don’t talk much about your past as a soldier and doctor because you were invalidated home after being shot and you believe you have failed because of that. You are not a failure by the way. And you seem to keep getting lost on this campus and ask me for help, the biggest arsehole you could run in.”

John thinks it’s amazing and apparently voices it out loud, not quite believing how amazing it actually is, “That… was amazing.”

Sherlock seems surprised himself “You think so?”

“Of course it was. It was extraordinary, quite extraordinary.”

Sherlock replies with a hidden smirk and looking away “That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say?”

“Piss off.”

Sherlock looks up again and smiles and John cannot help but smile, too.

“Well, I am not normal, then, am I?” John replies and beams up at Sherlock, again.

“No, I guess not.” Sherlock takes a deep breath and seems to be thinking. “Well, then. Follow me, John.” And John does. Sherlock walks him back to building R and even leads him to John’s office to make sure he gets there without getting lost and John finds it funny while nonetheless useful, he probably would not have made it back without him.

John gives him his best smile “Thank you, Sherlock. I appreciate it. I’ll see you around.”

“Of course,” Sherlock replies, totally emotionless, quite unlike a few minutes ago. John turns around to unlock his office door and when he gets in, he sees that Sherlock is already gone.

* * *

It has been a month now and John is quite comfortable getting around campus. He likes his job and his flat, he even made a few friends. Molly, the secretary and Greg Lestrade, a professor in the victimology department. Over time, he learned a bit about Sherlock from a distance. Sherlock is a professor in the science department, he is apparently very intelligent, which he could have said for himself. John cannot help but find Sherlock intriguing. It might be the fact that he looks so amazingly handsome every day or his unlikely personality. Anyway, John decided not to pursue anything for a while.

* * *

One day, over a nice pint of his favourite beer on the campus bar, Greg talks to him a bit and a few other guys join in. The conversation goes where guys’ conversations go; sports, sex and beer. Eventually, one guy who does not appeal to John in any way makes a remark towards the guy who has just entered the bar. John looks and sees Sherlock entering and feels immediately mad at the remark.

The guy whose name seems to be Anderson says “Look, the freak’s here.”

John stares at Anderson, “He is not a freak.”

“Oh, sure. Right.” Anderson looks at him in a way that John does not tolerate.

John won’t let it go until the guy apologises “Take it back.”

Greg places a hand on his arm. “Let it go, John. Anderson’s an arse.”

John calms down a bit because Greg sneers a look at Anderson which makes him leave. John is now alone with Greg and still a bit pissed off, but the beer helps. John finds Sherlock sitting at the bar alone and drinking and looks at him from a distance. “What’s going on between you two, then? You defend his honour, now? That guy is usually an arsehole to everyone.”

John has to know. “Do you know him?”

“Yes, I do. Known him since he began teaching here a few years back. Incredibly brilliant, a bit of a prick, but still. He is quite a man, and I think one day he might be a good one.” Greg tells him with sincerity and John believes him.

“I met him a month ago. He helped me find my way on campus when I started here. I owe him. And the guy could tell my whole life story from just one look. That is amazing. I mean, I get it might be a bit weird for some people, but he does not deserve to be called a freak for it.”

John risks another glance at where Sherlock is sitting to find him looking back. He takes his pint and raises it in his direction and Sherlock nods and smiles at him. Just acknowledging each other, then.

Greg scoffs and does not quite seem to believe it “You’re telling me that Sherlock Holmes helped you?” John laughs and finds himself comparing this to the first time Mycroft asked him this.

“Yeah, actually. His brother didn’t believe me either.” John laughs again.

“That’s because it’s unprecedented for Sherlock. Normally, he tells people to bugger off. He doesn’t help them.” At this, John feels special.

“Well, I guess I should consider myself lucky then.” John steals another glance in Sherlock’s direction only to notice he is not there anymore. John looks at his watch and notices the time.

“Sorry, Greg. I think I might go home now, a bit tired from my day.” John tells him while getting up from his seat. He finishes his beer and Greg tells him goodbye.

John walks home that night feeling quite special indeed.


	2. Budget Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A budget meeting, what could go wrong?

The feeling doesn’t last long. It’s Thursday afternoon and the heads of each department are meeting for a special grant. As the head of the literature department is in Washington for a conference, John took it upon himself to present reasons why their department would deserve the grant more than another. He delivers a flawless speech, among the same lines he used for his interview and is very proud of himself when he is done. He is standing and looking at everyone and that is when Sherlock makes an annoyed sound. “Boring!” Sherlock says, visibly irritated at everything John has just mentioned. Sherlock then adds “Literature is not the future. Science is the future. We deserve the grant and you all know it. Stop messing around and give it to my department.”

John cannot help but feel rage at Sherlock’s comment. John bites out the next few words, “I’m sorry, mister Holmes, but even if you despise me and my field of work, my department did not get any kind of funds for a while. It’s always going to your department and I think that’s because nobody tries to stand up to you. That’s going to change. I am not going to sit back because the great Sherlock Holmes thinks that literature is not as important as science.”

Sherlock scoffs and responds harshly “Look, you are a man of science. How can you say that literature is as important? Books are for people with lesser minds to entertain themselves any way they can.”

John flares him his most angry look, “Books are a way to escape reality, mister Holmes. You might find them pointless but they cure depression, they help people get through rough times. You’re right, I was a doctor in the army. Do not think for one second that I am not brilliant. And my department is not worthless… I know what I’m talking about when I say books, literature, is a way of holding on for many young minds.” John realises his eyes have teared up and that everybody is looking at them exchanging this argument. Eventually, Mycroft raises from his chair and asks them both to calm down. Sherlock looks at John and seems to look down afterward, a bit ashamed.

“I have decided to grant the money to the literature department. Mister Watson is right, they deserve it.” He smiles at John at this moment and adds “Thank you, that’ll be all.”

Everybody gets up and starts to leave. John gathers up his things and leaves towards his office. Just as he gets there and is about to shut the door, Sherlock follows him in and shuts the door behind him, leaving them alone in his office. John looks at him a bit intrigued and can’t help but think that he looks beautiful even then, even when he is angry with him. Sherlock seems to be taking a deep breath and looks directly into John’s eyes, and John must admit, Sherlock’s eyes are a breath-taking view.

“Please, John, accept my sincerest apologies. I did not deduce that you had been depressed and that books were your way of escaping that. I am sorry.”

John wonders but feels that Sherlock is sincere. “It’s fine. You don’t have to apologise. You can leave now.” It gets out more broken than he wanted it to be.

“No. I want to make sure you know I mean it. And you’re wrong, you know. While I may despise literature, I do not despise you.”

John takes a deep breath and realises that Sherlock addresses his earlier remark. John pinches his nose and starts talking again, “Look, Sherlock, it’s fine. I don’t want you to apologise to me, you meant what you said. Don’t go against your convictions just to be sure I am not mad at you.”

John lets his eyes wander on Sherlock for a few seconds. _How is it that the guy always wear suits? How can he look so amazing all the time? Not the point, John. Keep it together._

Sherlock seems to realise John was looking at him and smiles briefly. “John, I am not going against myself. I just want to tell you I am sorry. I… What can I do to make it up to you?” John believes it sounds flirty but ultimately chooses to deny it.

“I might have an idea,” he thinks about it before adding “You are going to read things I send you. I will email you suggestions and you will read each and every one of them and come back to me on what you thought. If you don’t come back to me on them, I will take it that you are not serious about your apology.” John retorts, a bit proud to be imposing Sherlock Holmes to read things.

“Deal.” Sherlock smiles and John catches a glimpse of vulnerability he did not know Sherlock had.

“Alright, then. I’ll email you tonight.”

Sherlock begins to walk out of John’s office, “Looking forward to it.” And just like that, he is gone.

* * *

As Sherlock is sitting on his sofa in the comfort of his flat, he wonders what made him apologise and even try to make up for something he said. That was very unlike him and he doesn’t believe it himself. He must admit, he finds John interesting. John is on his own an enigma, and he finds he wants to solve it. It helps that he finds John to be absolutely not boring. A doctor, who could be working in a hospital with all the adrenaline he wants, and yet, he chose to be a literature professor. He tries to occupy his mind waiting for John’s first email. He doesn’t believe in changing his mind but he will nonetheless do what John asked, just because he really wants to prove to him that he meant his apology. He doesn’t want John to be mad at him. He realises at that moment that it’s the first time he actually cares about someone’s opinion of him. Sherlock finally finds something to experiment on and it diverts his attention for a while.

* * *

> Sent: October 9th at 20:33
> 
> To: [sherlock.holmes@hudsonuniversity.co.uk](mailto:sherlock.holmes@hudsonuniversity.co.uk)
> 
> From: [john.h.watson@hudsonuniversity.co.uk](mailto:john.h.watson@hudsonuniversity.co.uk)
> 
> Object: Readings
> 
> Hi, Sherlock. Here are your first things to read. I hope you’ll enjoy them as much as I did.
> 
>   * Let’s start with something that let me escape my demons over and over again. _Great Expectations_ by the amazing Charles Dickens. You have two weeks to read and produce a small essay on why it’s excellent. One page will do. ;-)
>   * One book I think you will enjoy for its cynicism, _The Great Gasby_ by F Scott Fitzgerald. I will give you a week for this one, it’s a fun read. You don’t have to produce an essay, just read it and talk to me about it.
>   * A personal favourite of mine: the delectable _Bell Jar_ from Sylvia Plath. It’s dark and not an easy read but I loved every word. If you are up for it, here’s another challenge… :-) Read some of her poems and come back to me on them as soon as you can.
>   * The last one, for this email ;-) Read _Dangerous Liaisons_ by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos. It’s refreshing. It’s French, originally. The original version gets to me on a different level, but if you do not master the language, I believe you will still like it.
> 
> I hope you don’t give up. I really want to believe your apology. Have fun, Sherlock.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> John Watson

* * *

John gets up from his sofa to go have a wash and gets out 10 minutes later. He settles in bed and watches a bit of television before falling asleep. He hears his phone ping and looks to see if it’s important, a bit groggy. He smiles at the name at the top of the email he has just received.

* * *

> Sent: October 9th at 22:46
> 
> To: [john.h.watson@hudsonuniversity.co.uk](mailto:john.h.watson@hudsonuniversity.co.uk)
> 
> From: [sherlock.holmes@hudsonuniversity.co.uk](mailto:sherlock.holmes@hudsonuniversity.co.uk)
> 
> Re: Readings
> 
> Hi, so John H, apparently? (Harvey, is it?)
> 
> Thank you for sending this. I have already gotten started, just so you know. I meant it, you will forgive me. I will see you tomorrow with my assignments completed.
> 
> I am sorry, again. On this note, I leave you with Plath’s words. “The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.” 
> 
> P.-S. I find myself wrong about poetry. It really is something when the words have meaning.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Sherlock Holmes

* * *

John puts his phone down a bit and smiles at his ceiling. Sherlock is really taking it seriously, then. _If I’m honest, me too. No, no. Can’t think like that_. He picks up his phone to reply.

* * *

> Sent: October 9th at 22:50
> 
> To: [sherlock.holmes@hudsonuniversity.co.uk](mailto:sherlock.holmes@hudsonuniversity.co.uk)
> 
> From: [john.h.watson@hudsonuniversity.co.uk](mailto:john.h.watson@hudsonuniversity.co.uk)
> 
> RE: re: Readings
> 
> Hi Sherlock, you can sleep, you know. I can see you’re taking this seriously, but don’t overdo it.
> 
> My middle name is not up for discussion. (No, not Harvey. That’s horrible.) ;-)
> 
> On another note, I can’t help but agree with you. Plath’s words speak to me and I find myself jealous of not having written her words myself however if you mean that the words fit you, I just can’t let this go. You are in no way inadequate, Sherlock. Maybe just wrong, sometimes, but I’m here to put you back in your place. :-)
> 
> Anyway, you have time to do this. You can rest, I will allow it.
> 
> P.-S. I already forgave you. You don’t have to go through with this. I just wanted to make you work for it a little.
> 
> See you soon,
> 
> John

* * *

John finishes his email and smiles again. He absolutely wants to see Sherlock tomorrow but doesn’t want the man to have a burnout because he made him read all night. Better let him off the hook, he doesn’t deserve to feel bad any longer than he already has. John puts his phone down again and tries to go to sleep like he is not waiting to hear back. Hopefully, an answer comes through a few minutes later.

* * *

> Sent: October 9th at 23:12
> 
> To: [john.h.watson@hudsonuniversity.co.uk](mailto:john.h.watson@hudsonuniversity.co.uk)
> 
> From: [sherlock.holmes@hudsonuniversity.co.uk](mailto:sherlock.holmes@hudsonuniversity.co.uk)
> 
> Object: You’re a mean one.
> 
> Hi, John. (Harrison?)
> 
> Sleep? How boring?
> 
> Here you let me believe that you were still furious with me. That is not nice of you. I’m the one who should get to be mad, now. I just can’t find any reason to be mad at you, it seems.
> 
> I accept your offer to put me back in my place if needed, although I doubt I will require your services. I am a delightful person to be around as I have been told. (Yes, I’m able to be sarcastic. And funny.)
> 
> De plus, j’aimerais te laisser savoir que mon niveau de français est irréprochable. De ce fait, nous pourrons parler ensemble sans être compris par les autres, ce sera comme avoir notre propre code secret! Très utile pour parler contre Anderson. I’m just kidding. Alright… I am not. :-)
> 
> If I don’t complete my assignments, can I still see you tomorrow?
> 
> The funny guy,
> 
> Sherlock Holmes

* * *

John smiles and laughs at Sherlock’s email. It’s good to see things are going great again, in some way. It was a good idea to let him off the hook. He should read these things if he wants to, not because he is forced to do so. He finally puts his phone back on the night table beside his bed and falls asleep quickly. He wakes up to his phone ringing loudly. He picks it up without looking at who’s calling or what time it is.

He clears his throat after in hope of sounding better, “Hello?”

“John?” He recognizes that voice. It’s Sherlock. _How the hell did he get my number? Oh right, it’s Sherlock. His brother gave me a job. He asked his brother. _

“Sherlock? Why are you calling me at…” He looks at his phone screen “God… at 2 in the morning.”

“You never answered my last email. I was worried.” John can hear his sincerity. The poor guy was waiting and John fell asleep.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock. I fell asleep… but you know, I would have seen you around campus… No need to worry.” John hopes he can reassure Sherlock.

“Right, sleep. Sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll see you around.”

John thinks it might sound desperate but cannot help it. He has to say something before Sherlock hangs up, “Wait.”

“What?”

John pinches the top of his nose and takes a deep breath, “It’s Hamish. My middle name.”

John can practically hear Sherlock’s relief and his smile over the phone. “I thought this was not up for discussion.” John hears a hint of sarcasm.

He smiles at his phone and decides to flirt a bit. “I thought that too, but then you called me in the middle of the night and I was defenseless.” 

“Good night, John.”

John takes a deep breath and relaxes. Sherlock’s voice is soothing, even in the middle of the night.

John has to let him know he wants to see him, too. “Good night, Sherlock. I will see you at lunch, okay?”

“Okay. Sleep well, then.” And just like this, Sherlock hung up. John keeps his phone held tightly against his chest. _This is becoming interesting_ is his last thought before falling asleep again.

* * *

Later that month, at lunch, John is walking to Sherlock’s office. It has become their little ritual, eating lunch together. Greg even got suspicious of this once. John is arriving when he hears Sherlock’s voice from afar. “Irene, for the last time, I don’t want to have dinner.” He can hear a bit of annoyance in his tone. Irene? The Irene? John met her the other day, a very pretty woman in Sherlock’s department. John stays just outside his door, not quite listening but still not ignoring them.

“Why? I’m nice, we get along well. Let’s just have dinner and see where it goes.” She says and John can hear her seductive tone. He feels a bit jealous suddenly and fears Sherlock will accept, not that it would be any of his business if he did.

Sherlock definitely sounds annoyed now, “You are a nice woman and a highly intelligent one at that. So you know exactly why I am saying no.”

Just as John is about to enter, Sherlock gets out and walks in a hurry to the elevator. “Come on, John. Let’s go have lunch.” John finds himself following him without actually knowing that Sherlock knew he was there.

They get to the elevator and the doors close behind them, leaving them alone.

John has to clear the air, “I wasn’t trying to spy on you, I just didn’t want to disturb your conversation.”

“It’s okay, John. God, that woman gets on my nerves.” He is still a bit annoyed, John can tell.

“Why don’t want to have dinner with her? She’s pretty.” Sherlock scoffs and looks at him like he is the stupidest thing in the world.

He dismisses him immediately. “Not you, too.”

John clenches his fists. He takes a deep breath and apologises “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

Sherlock clears his throat and leaves it alone. There is a big sound exactly at that moment and the elevator stops moving.


	3. Take Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many things happen here.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Sherlock raises his hands and sits down. “Might as well sit, John. The elevator is stuck between floors.”

“What?” John cannot understand or doesn’t want to.

“The elevator has stopped. I don’t have my mobile and you don’t have one either. It might be a long time before anyone notices we are gone and stuck in here.”

John feels himself getting angry, “Fuck this.” This is most likely because he is powerless to do anything to help their situation, but he is downright mad.

He sits down beside Sherlock and they wait a few minutes in silence. Sherlock, out of nowhere says “I thought you knew why I didn’t want to have dinner with her.” John is grateful that he is talking however he doesn’t know how to respond. John looks at him sideways and Sherlock is already looking at him. Sherlock breathes slowly, “You look sad today.”

John knows he is being deduced again, but he doesn’t mind. John hoped he wouldn’t have to share that, but he never feels judged when he talks to Sherlock. “Yeah… It’s a… my wife died on this date, two years ago.”

“What was her name?” Sherlock asks and John believes he actually wants to know, it feels like he cares.

“Mary. She was… You know. She wasn’t the one. She just… she was there for me and I was very fond of her. Losing her, when I had nothing else… that was very hard to come back from. She’s the one who helped me after I came back from the war.” John sobs a little and looks down at his hands, not able to maintain eye contact when showing weakness. He feels a hand patting his knee.

“I’m sorry. I really am.” John feels Sherlock’s sincerity and it makes him feel a bit better. He takes a few moments to collect his thoughts. Sherlock finally removes his hand and John misses the contact instantly.

“She died in a car accident. I just… I think I loved her, but I don’t think I loved her enough. She didn’t get what she deserved and I was a sorry excuse for a husband. She died… and I feel guilty because, in the end, it wasn’t love. It was comfort. Anyway, you don’t want to hear that. I am sorry to make you listen to my ramblings.” He takes a break and continues, “I don’t want to intrude on your personal life, I just… Don’t refuse Irene if you like her. Love is rare, Sherlock. We don’t get enough of it in a lifetime. Don’t be like me, don’t settle for anything less than you deserve.”

John looks up at him and sees that Sherlock is listening with intent. Without knowing how or why he feels Sherlock hugging him. He hugs back, although even if he is a bit shaky. Sherlock’s hair smells amazing. The scent is intoxicating and he feels he could remain like this for a long time. His heart rate accelerates at the thought. Sherlock pulls away from the hug and John reluctantly lets go of him. John clears his throat to defuse the tension.

“I don’t want dinner with Irene because women are not really my area,” Sherlock says and it surprises John that he is this direct and honest, unguarded.

“Oh… I see.” John says, and he wants to sound as open as possible.

_Did he just admit he is gay? Do I have a chance? Who am I kidding, look at him and look at me… _

“Yes,” Sherlock says.

“What?”

“Yes, I am gay. That’s the question that was in your head.” Sherlock looks him directly in the eyes and John cannot remember the last time looking into someone’s eyes took his breath away.

“It’s fine with me, just so you know. My sister’s gay. I don’t mind. And I…” John doesn’t know how to say it. Best let Sherlock deduce it.

“I know you don’t… considering your own preferences.” Sherlock looks at him and smiles and John feels his face contracting “Oh come on, don’t be like that. I have seen the way you look at me. Your eyes linger a lot. You’re bisexual. Have been for a long time. You just don’t say it out loud.” Sherlock rolls his eyes and John smiles.

John laughs, “Nothing escapes you, does it?” He breathes and adds with honesty “Yeah. I have to admit, you are quite nice to look at.” He doesn’t know why he is acknowledging it, but he can’t just deny it either. Sherlock gives him a warm and unguarded smile, one he has never witnessed until now. John feels his eyes going to Sherlock’s lips and up to his eyes again. When it seems the tension is palpable, the elevator starts whirring and it’s working again. They both clear their throats and get up at the same time. They get to a floor and get out of the elevator. Sherlock seems to be walking fast in order to avoid anything John might have done or said a moment ago.

Without knowing how or why, John finally takes a risk, “Sherlock. Do you want to have dinner?” John smiles at him and Sherlock turns his head, smiling too. “I’ll text you.” Sherlock replies and John feels his heart beating loudly. He just asked Sherlock Holmes on a date and he said yes, albeit in his own mysterious way. Time to become nervous in 3…2…1! _God, Watson. Keep it together. _

* * *

It is now the 5th of November, and it is exactly 7 in the evening. Sherlock finds himself nervous as hell since he woke up this morning. It is not just any day. Today is the day of his first date with John Watson and he couldn’t be happier and yet, he feels like his stomach is upside down. He doesn’t do this, dates. Hell, he doesn’t even talk much to anyone. Another professor at the university, Jim Moriarty, invited him just the other day again and he had to decline once again, saying something along the lines of ‘I don’t date’. That was, well, until John Watson had invited him. John was different, John was already special in some way. Ever since he met him, he felt like something pulled him towards John. The normal way of saying this would be that he found himself attracted to him. Sherlock Holmes, who praised himself for being independent, good at being alone and who was the best to divorce himself from feelings… How ironic. But John… without knowing the depths of John Watson, he just knew he wanted more. He wanted to know everything about John.

Worried about his pacing back and forth in the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady and the person who lived in the flat underneath his, came up to see him around six-ish. She instantly saw he was nervous and made him tea. She chose to not confront him about whatever reason he had to be nervous and he was grateful to escape small talk for once. Eventually, she went back downstairs and Sherlock warned her that someone was going to come to pick him up and to let him in. She nodded and smirked but did not inquire further, for which Sherlock was relieved.

He had chosen his favourite suit, perfectly tailored. He knew how well it suited him and how John would look at him in awe. He could tell John liked this suit, as he had worn it a few days prior. His black suit fitted perfectly with his new white shirt, who he had gotten especially for today. He looked at his collection of ties and decided against wearing one, leaving a bit of his neck exposed. He styled his hair a bit and went to sit in his chair, with his laptop. Now all he had to do was to wait for John to get here. His phone pinged a few seconds later. He took it out of his pocket and saw he had a text from John.

> _Running a bit late. Bloody awful cabbie is taking the longest route. Sorry, will make it up to you. Promise ;) _

He smiled and then typed out his reply.

> ** _You can admit you left a bit late because you didn’t know what to wear, and you really wanted to look amazing.. for me. SH_ **

> _I should have known you would know. Of course, I want to look good for you, have you seen yourself in a mirror lately? I have to look decent to be seen in your company!_

Sherlock smiles and decides to wait for John to get here to say anything else.

* * *

12 minutes later, he hears someone knocking at his door. He goes and opens it before his nervousness gets to him, only to find John in a beautiful grey suit. He is wearing a white shirt with a black tie and Sherlock has to remind himself that blinking is natural.

“You look amazing, John.”

John seems to blush before taking a deep breath. “So do you. Wow.” He looks at Sherlock up and down and Sherlock finds it hard to swallow his saliva. _Control your transport, Holmes._

“So I was to pick you up, but you chose the place. Lead the way.” John gives him his best smile once again and Sherlock has to clear his throat.

Sherlock eventually leads the way outside and walks with John closely beside him towards Angelo’s. Sherlock rarely chooses to eat on his own, but for John, he will at least make an effort. They get there and Angelo gives them a nice table, a bit secluded from other people to Sherlock’s prior demand. Angelo doesn’t seem to want to intrude but gives them a candle and a bottle of wine for the table. Eventually, they order and while they wait for their food, the conversation flows easily.

“Tell me a bit about you. It’s only fair considering you know all about me from my fingers and my tie, or whatever you look at that makes you deduce my whole life.”

Sherlock is looking at his face, John is fully expectant of an answer. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything, Sherlock.” John smiles at him and Sherlock feels his heart rate accelerating. _God damn it, how can he look at me like that? Deep breath and full sentences, now!_

“I grew up with two loving parents and one awful brother who you have met. I love to play the violin, helps me clear my head. I love bees, intelligent and delightful creatures that they are. I am a professor at Hudson University mainly because my landlady owns it. She doesn’t make me pay for rent as long as I teach, says it would be good for me. As for anything else, you’ll have to ask.” Sherlock raises his eyebrows and smiles at John, hoping that was a satisfying answer.

“And… how long have you been single?” Sherlock can detect John’s insecurity in his tone and the way he shifts in his seat.

“Forever. I mean… I don’t do this,” Sherlock gestures between them. “I don’t normally date.”

John seems to be even more nervous. _Answer wasn’t good. Why did you have to screw up, Holmes?_

“And why me? Why would you agree to date me?” Sherlock can see John really wants to know, he seems more confident now. _Deep breaths, Holmes._ _Body is betraying me, heart skips a beat. A smile, that’s good. Oh no, not blushing. No!_

“I find you attractive and you are not boring. You are a marvel. A doctor with a need for action who chooses to teach? You are like a puzzle and I would love to solve you… it.” Sherlock clears his throat and looks John in the eyes to find his pupils dilated. _Now, that’s data I can understand._

* * *

John thinks about the words Sherlock just uttered. The poor bloke probably didn’t mean to make it sound sexual, but it did. At least, to him, it did. Leave it to John Watson to feel his pants tightening in a restaurant. John finds he has to clear his throat and shifts in his seat to adjust himself before carrying on with the conversation. _A bit of flirting won’t hurt. After all, he didn’t get the nickname Three Continents Watson for nothing._

“Go on, then. Solve me,” John leans in a bit and lets his voice drops a few octaves, feeling the need to seduce, “Deduce me, like you normally put it.”

“Are you sure you want that?” Sherlock looks at all of his face, probably trying to deduce if he was genuinely asking.

“Yes. I want you to.”

“Alright. I know from the way you walk that you don’t lack self-confidence however I know you’re afraid. Still don’t know afraid of what, but that will become fairly obvious soon enough. You consciously choose not to talk about your wife, it still hurts; sentiment. I also know that your sister’s a lesbian and that your father was, to say the least, not really approving of her choices. I think you’re actually afraid of him. Oh, yes. That’s it. You chose to join the Army to gain some respect from him. You wanted to make him proud even if you hate him and that explains your previous choice of partners to bring home. You are clearly bisexual, but only brought women home. You do not know how to tell him that, but you have known for some time, and you deserve to be happy, John. You truly do. Don’t let him get in the way. And I know for a fact…” Sherlock lowers his voice when he continues “if he had to hit you now like he used to, you would clearly be unable to stop yourself from hitting him back, for all the hurt he caused your family. And my final deduction, which is obvious, you’re thinking it may have been wrong to ask me to deduce you in the first place.”

John finds it hard to follow with Sherlock's fast-paced speech but he is actually spot on. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes a second before opening them again to find Sherlock trying to gauge his reaction. “Thank you… that was spectacular,” John takes a sip of his wine before adding “And right on all accounts. I don’t know how you do it but you are quite amazing. You did miss a few things, but I guess it’s only fair that I tell you some things about me that you couldn’t possibly know just like that.”

“What did I miss?” Sherlock looks lost and John smirks at the man before him, looking at how his eyes try to see through him.

The rest of the date is uneventful although far from boring. John walks Sherlock home afterward and he is the perfect gentleman. He says goodbye and only hugs Sherlock, not wanting to rush the man into anything. His walk home is slightly chilly and he immediately feels a rush of adrenaline surging through him. He is falling for Sherlock Holmes and that is terrifying.

* * *

When he gets home, he decides to shower and watch a bit of telly before bed. His phone buzzes and he reaches for it. A smile warms his heart at the realisation that Sherlock Holmes has just texted him.

> ** _Why didn’t you kiss me? SH_ **

John smirks before typing out his answer.

> _I didn’t want to rush you… but I really wanted to. God, I wanted to. I would have loved to feel your lips against mine if only for a few seconds._

He sees that Sherlock is typing and relaxes in his sofa. When he thinks about Sherlock’s lips, he feels his head clearing and his breathing calming. How appeasing and how nerve-wrenching it would be at the same time. It would probably be like the softest thing ever until it wasn’t anymore. God, he should have kissed him. Nothing too weird for their first date, just pecking his lips would have been utterly satisfying.

> ** _I think about kissing you a lot. It’s only my imagination, though. However I would like to think about it when I have a concrete experience to rely on … when I will have been able to catalogue the feeling of your lips against mine, and then revisit the sensation whenever I feel like it. SH_ **

** **

John thinks and one thing comes to mind: _Is Sherlock openly flirting with me? _

> ** _Yes, I am flirting with you. Stop blushing. SH_ **

** **

> _Good Lord, how did you know that?_

> ** _Just noticed how you looked at my lips all evening. Wasn’t hard to deduce the rest. SH_ **

** **

John takes a deep breath and feels himself actually blushing hard. The bastard is right again. Then a few minutes later, as he is wondering what to reply, another text comes.

** **

> ** _How would you go about kissing me for the first time, John? SH_ **

** **

_Let me have a do-over and I will show you. _

* * *

It has been 38 minutes since his last text and John is feeling uneasy. Sherlock has yet to reply. Maybe it was a bit forward for someone like Sherlock who didn’t date. John was about to type another text to tell him goodnight and apologise when he heard someone knocking at his front door. _It couldn’t be… could it?_

He opened his front door to reveal Sherlock Holmes looking as stunning as ever. Sherlock is looking at him and smiling at John, right at John's doorstep.


	4. He Doesn't Know Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen. Why?

“What about that do-over then?” As Sherlock is saying the words, John grabs him by his coat and pulls him inside. He closes the door and puts Sherlock against it before leaning in. He looks at Sherlock to be reassured that he wants it, too. When Sherlock nods, John closes the space between their lips.

At first, it’s slow, tentative, easy. When Sherlock grabs him by the waist to pull him closer, he feels his tongue flicker over Sherlock’s lips and Sherlock allows him in immediately. John cannot resist the urge and lets his hands wander over Sherlock’s back, trying to pull him closer with each breath. John is almost sure he hears Sherlock’s breathing becoming ragged. As Sherlock rolls his hips closer, John feels something hard colliding with his lower belly.

John realises that there is a very attractive man in his arms and that Sherlock wants him. And it hits him like a wave and before he can think, he pushes Sherlock away, in a brutal way. He can feel his eyes tearing up with anger. Angry at himself, angry at his father. Angry with everything.

“What’s wrong? Did I do it wrong?” Sherlock seems lost and hurt, and John cannot prevent the words that are surfacing.

“I just can’t, I’m sorry.” John feels his eyes tearing up. He is about to screw this up before it even started because he can’t deal with his demons. _Sherlock wants you, you bloody moron! What are you doing?_ His head tells him, but there’s another part of him that just can’t.

“Can’t… what? Talk to me.” Sherlock pleads and John reconsiders for a moment. The poor guy seems heartbroken at his lack of words.

“I can’t be… this. I can’t be bisexual. I can’t be with a man. I really thought I could, but I can’t. This is too real.” John lets his eyes close and he feels his cheeks becoming damp.

“You can’t be… or you can’t be with me?” John hears Sherlock’s tone and it’s not pleasant. Sherlock is most definitely mad now.

“This has nothing to do with you. I have to deal with my demons before I can allow you to be a part of my life, Sherlock. It wouldn’t be fair to you if I let you in now… while I’m still broken.” John allows himself to make eye contact for the first time since this conversation started, only now realising he was looking at the floor.

* * *

Sherlock is already looking at him and he can’t hide his own emotions. They are both crying and this seems to have become the worst night of both of their lives, just now. Sherlock deduces at this moment that John needs to be alone. _I should have listened to Mycroft… Caring is not an advantage… _

“I like you, I really do. I just can’t be... I just… I need time to figure things out. Please, Sherlock.” John pleads and Sherlock cannot refuse him, even now. John’s eyes are full of tears and he would want nothing more than to reach out and dry his tears, but he feels he would be brutally rejected as earlier.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and looks away, “I’ll go, now.”

He looks back at John, who is looking at the floor, and then leaves. The only time he felt hopeful and full of joy at the idea of opening his heart, he walks back home feeling like its pieces are coming out of him through his tears. Sherlock wants to stop crying, he really does. He just can’t. In such a short time, John had become his friend and a promise for something more, and now everything is over. Sherlock thinks about calling his past dealer but decides to go home instead if John changes his mind and comes to find him.

* * *

He doesn’t. It has been six weeks now and the few times they exchanged looks at the university, it was painful. Sherlock knows that John has been sending him emails and texts but refuses to open them, he just can’t endure his heart breaking further. The Christmas break is upon them, at last. In three days, he will get a bit of time off to re-calibrate his mind. Sherlock tries to do his job the best he can, but he finds his mind wandering to John a bit too often to his taste. One time, he just has to leave the classroom when a student is talking about Sylvia Plath’s poem they had to read in literature. His students don’t mention it when he comes back in, but he feels it. _God, why are emotions so complicated? I was so much better without them._

* * *

After another painful and John-less day, he goes home. He knows he has a secret stash for emergencies and this might be it. He thinks about shooting up with anything, just to soothe his mind for a bit. It looks like a promising idea. Just as he gets up from his sofa to go find it, his phone beeps. A text from Irene, perhaps his only friend who knows everything about this situation.

> _Have you seen John’s blog? _

Just then, he reaches for his laptop and finds John’s blog. It is really just a click away, he put it in his favourites as soon as he saw it existed. He looks at the recent post and tenses up.

> _I need help. I screwed up the one good thing I had going on because I’m scared of what people will say. I was scared. Just so this is over and done; I was Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, I was a doctor in Her Majesty’s army. I am honoured to have served my country. I am honoured to have been injured serving my country. And just as importantly, I am honoured to be a bisexual man who served my country. And I am not scared anymore. I will live the rest of my life being true to myself, I have endured too much to be unhappy a minute more._
> 
> _Sherlock, I owe you an apology. You don’t read my emails or my texts so this might become a bit public, but you deserve to know how sorry I am. For a long time, I felt like I was drowning and you were like coming up for fresh air. You are the most amazing man I have ever had the chance of knowing and I really hope you will let me make it up to you. I can only hope this will get to you one way or another. I want you to know that there is a package waiting for you with Mrs. Hudson if you ever read this. There is a gift and a letter. Please contact me if you get them. _
> 
> _In the meantime, if you are not ready for any of this, I would love it if you could show up at the staff’s Christmas party tomorrow evening. I need to see you. _
> 
> _John Watson_

Just as Sherlock reads the entry for the thousandth time, he finally smiles. John still has to apologise properly, but this post only means he is serious about him. He is ready, he has dealt with his demons. Sherlock goes to Mrs. Hudson and knocks at her door violently until she finally opens.

Mrs. Hudson beams at him, “Oh, Sherlock. A lovely young man let me something for you. Such an adorable man. He said that he had done something to you and that he wanted me to give this to you to apologise. Such a thoughtful man.”

Sherlock is impatient and lets it show, “Yes, Mrs. Hudson. Now if you could give me what he gave you.”

Mrs. Hudson goes to retrieve the package and it is quite a big box. There is a letter on top of it, with one rose. _Really, John? Such a romantic._

He takes it and goes back to his flat to open it alone. As he opens the box, there is something written at the top.

> _I knew you would go for the gifts, first, git. Well, then. Go ahead. _

Sherlock smiles at this and opens the first little box he finds. A fairly nice watch, nothing too flashy. When he turns it, he sees it is engraved. His heart swoons over the inscription.

> _Don't be late. I'm waiting. JW_

As he puts the watch on, he feels like John is connected to him somehow. He feels like he is able to breathe normally again.

Just then, he sees that John has left him a honey jar. The note on it just as sweet as the liquid in it: _For your sweet tooth. And mine… if you agree to share. _And as he could not be happier with John’s package, he finds the letter and sits in his chair near the fireplace.

> _Sherlock, if you are reading this letter, it is a small victory for me. It means you are still open to the idea of forgiving me. Let me convince you with this handwritten letter that I mean it. I apologise in advance, being a lefty will not help with the clarity of this message. _
> 
> _Sherlock, I have been in therapy for the last six weeks and while I am not convinced that I am completely whole again, my therapist told me that if there’s even a slight chance that I could get something that will make me happy, that I should risk it. She’s right, you know. Life’s too short and happiness is too rare. _
> 
> _During the past six weeks, I have been miserable. Still am, to be honest. Do you know the feeling, when you’re lying awake at night and your thoughts drift to your past mistakes? And it just seems like they will haunt you forever… _
> 
> _Look, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but a friend of mine used to say that what defines us is how we make up for those mistakes… To be fair, I guess anybody has a chapter of their life that they don’t read out loud. Anyway… Like I was saying, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but if every single one of them had to happen to make sure I was right here, right now, to meet you, then I forgive myself for them all. _
> 
> _Sweetheart, you can find magic wherever you look and I find myself looking at you. You are the most amazing person I have ever met and I would give anything for you to give me another chance. Since I realised that I wanted you, my mind at night doesn’t haunt me with my past. My mind drowns in the possibility of you and me. _
> 
> _If you can find it in yourself to forgive me, I would love to see you. Please. _
> 
> _Also, the USB key… It’s just one song. I didn’t write it, but I played it and sang it for you. It said things I couldn’t. _
> 
> _John xxx_

* * *

Sherlock is trying really hard to bite back the tears, but he can’t. For once, they are not tears of pain, but tears of joy. He chooses to put the USB key in his pockets and reaches for his mobile. As he glances at it, he hesitates but ultimately chooses to text John.

> _I got your package. SH_
> 
> _Good. Did you like it?_

> _I did. I am wearing the watch. It’s beautiful, John. All of it. Awfully romantic. SH_

> _:-) When can I see you?_

> _Pick me up for the staff party tomorrow? SH_

> _You’re coming? _

> _I will if you ask nicely. SH_

> _Sherlock, it would be an honour for me to take you to a boring Christmas party. _

Sherlock finds himself laughing and smiling at his mobile.

> _The honour would be all mine, John. SH_

* * *

John is finally able to breathe as he pockets his mobile. He has to meet Lestrade for a beer in less than 10 minutes, he has to leave his flat now if he is to make it on time. When he gets to the bar, Lestrade is already there waiting for him.

Greg smiles at him “So, you and Sherlock?”

John can’t help smiling when he hears that name, “Yeah, at least, I hope.”

Greg looks at him and seems to think before answering, “You know, Sherlock’s a good guy. I don’t know what happened between you two, but let me vouch for him, he hasn’t touched any drugs in years. Give him a chance, would you?”

John hears but cannot process, “Drugs?”

Greg seems to understand his misstep. He remains silent and drinks his pint.

“Greg, what do you mean?” John can’t _not_ ask.

“I think he should tell you that himself… I’m sorry, I thought you knew.” Greg looks everywhere but at John.

“Alright, then. Drop me off at his place, then.” John insists, his tone loud and clear. Greg seems to take him seriously and finishes his beer before dropping him off.

* * *

John gets to Sherlock’s place for the first time in weeks and hesitates. If Sherlock didn’t share this, it might be because he doesn’t want him to know. But he does know… He has to ask. As he knocks, he hears footsteps and Sherlock opens the front door in his pyjamas.

“Oh, hi, John.” Sherlock looks at him and apparently deduces that something is going on. Sherlock lets him in and John follows quietly to Sherlock’s flat.

“Greg told you, didn’t he?” It’s barely above a whisper.

John looks up at him and takes a deep breath, hoping it will show he cares without showing rage, “Yes. Something about drugs… Sherlock… Christ… How could you? You have such a beautiful mind, how could you? Why would you do that to yourself?”

“I have disappointed you. Haven’t I? I am not so amazing, after all…” John can hear his despair and closes the space between them. A hug, that’s a good idea.

When he feels Sherlock trembling, he pulls back. He sees the man before him falling to his knees and he hears a sound coming from him. It’s as he is breaking and John feels like he is, too.

He gets to his knees in front of him and raises Sherlock’s head with his hand, slowly lifting his chin, “Look at me.” John pleads Sherlock.

Sherlock finally looks at him and John feels his heart breaking when he sees his face. Sherlock is crying, and his eyes are even more beautiful than he ever noticed.

If there’s a moment in his life that he needs to sound convincing, it’s this one, “Sherlock, I am not going anywhere. I’m far from perfect myself. I just want to know why… I will still want you after you’ve explained. I promise you, I am not going anywhere.”

John just has to add, “God, you’re beautiful.”

Sherlock smiles a bit and finally takes a deep breath. John takes Sherlock’s hands and doesn’t let them go.

Sherlock inhales and looks John directly in the eye, showing every bit of his sincerity, “There was a time… It happened to me, too… I was depressed, I felt worthless, carried on with living because I thought I was too weak to end my own life. I was very unhappy. I… I lost my only friend when I was young and I didn’t deal with it very well. Once he was gone, people started to tease me. All throughout my school years, I felt like I was an outsider… Maybe I was… But I couldn’t connect with anyone and everyone made fun of me. Until I found something who could make me stop caring about these stupid things… I just couldn’t deal with being the odd one out, so I became an arse instead and they finally left me alone… But then, I couldn’t stop… I felt so lovely… But it was just the drugs and, sometimes I think that maybe it wasn’t just the drugs? Maybe these feelings are inside of us all along, and the drugs find them. At least, it was like that for me. Maybe that’s why some people choose to be junkies because they choose to believe that they’re worthy of happiness. To put these suicidal feelings to sleep… I think self-destruction was the most addictive thing about it all. There’s something very powerful and magical about it. I just wish I had found books, like you did, instead… I’m so ashamed, John… what would a doctor want to do with a recovering addict?”

“Oh, Sherlock,” John breathes and goes to caress Sherlock’s cheek, “I want everything to do with you.” John smiles and Sherlock smiles back before hugging John again. “Just promise me you won’t touch anything.”

“I promise, John,” Sherlock says it and John detects honesty. He lets his hand caress Sherlock’s curls and takes a deep breath.

“Now… Let’s just put the past behind us. Let’s have a new beginning.” John feels Sherlock relaxing in his embrace. Until he doesn’t. Sherlock’s breathing is quick, John hears that Sherlock has difficulty breathing. John pulls back and sees the panic in Sherlock’s eyes.

John tries to soothe him, “Breathe, Sherlock. Everything’s fine.”

Sherlock looks at the floor and joins his hand with John’s, “I have never done this before.”

John enlaces his fingers with Sherlock’s, “Neither have I. We’ll figure this out together, okay?”


	5. Into the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's start going into unknown and uncharted territory.

The worst time of the year. It has finally come. Sherlock, to his undying protest, had to come to this dreadful evening. At least John remains close to him throughout the whole evening. To his surprise, he must admit he finds this a decent way to entertain himself. John and he have been drinking ever since they arrived, and the alcohol is doing a fine job to keep his worries silent. He is still a bit scared of starting something with John because John is the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him and to lose him would mean to lose everything that makes sense in this world. They have been talking a lot on the phone recently and John reassures him that his past doesn’t change how he feels about him. Sherlock admits to himself that he is mostly scared because no one ever cared for him that way. No one stayed like John did. John is a constant in his life now and he doesn’t know how to go back to life before John Watson. The truth is, they are emotionally connected beyond anything Sherlock has ever hoped to experience. They haven’t even gotten intimate yet and Sherlock is extremely curious, though a bit nervous. A look to his left, where John is already looking up at him and he feels his smile escaping him before thinking against it. Everything he feels must be clear on his face right now because John gives him a similar smile that makes Sherlock’s cheeks heat up, although this could be the amount of alcohol in his blood right now.

“John, I’m drunk. You’re drunk. We’re drunk.” Sherlock tries to articulate words and it must come out slurred but he tries anyway. Without knowing why he laughs at his own state of inarticulate.

John seems to process Sherlock’s words and tries, “God… that… yes.”

“Let’s go black to my ffflat.” Sherlock is not even sure what came out of his own mouth.

“That sounded more racist than it should have. You’re quite pissed. You don’t drink much, do you?” Sherlock can definitely see that John is amused.

John smirks and puts one hand on his back before talking into his ear, “Dance with me and I’ll get you home.”

Sherlock looks him in the eyes and even in his current state, he can’t deny John anything.

Sherlock seizes John’s arm and lets himself follow to the dance floor, “Ok, but you lead.”

Once on the dance floor, everything seems to spin too fast and Sherlock feels he is about to get sick. John must be quite used to drunks because he takes Sherlock’s arms to steady him. It’s too late and Sherlock vomits directly on John, on his horrendous jumper… _Good aim, Holmes._ John laughs, “You must be real proud, you hate that jumper.” Sherlock offers a half-smile before letting his body expel another heavy flow of… stuff. John is covered in vomit, and Sherlock, too. Greg comes towards them and winces.

“Oi, get home. You stink.” John takes hold of Sherlock. One hand around his waist and flips one of Sherlock’s arms over his shoulders.

Apparently, expulsing your alcohol doesn’t guarantee a less inebriated state. Sherlock actually feels worse. He lets his head fall on John and John shakes him a bit.

“Ok, that’s enough. I’ll get you back to Baker Street. Come on, now.” _John, my hero._

The way home is a bit of a blur, the only thing he feels conscious of is where John’s body touches his. John’s clothes are dirty. Sherlock’s clothes are dirty.

“Didn’t think… get you naked… this quick.” _Does this even make sense? _

John offers him a good and warm laugh and proceeds to lead Sherlock to the bathroom. He puts Sherlock back to the door after closing it and puts Sherlock's hands on his shoulders.

“Ok, hold onto me. I’ll help you get in the shower.” John’s voice is warm and reassuring and Sherlock smiles at how lucky he got.

“You have to shower, too. I’ll be sick again if you go on smelling like this.” John looks up at him while undressing him and stands straight.

“Oh, so you can speak a bit more clearly now. Thank God, you weren’t making much sense. I am beginning to think this was part of your plan to get me naked, but then again, you did vomit in the middle of the dance floor.” Sherlock smiles and John steadies him once again. As John works his trousers, Sherlock lets his head rest on John’s.

“Jesus, Sherlock. Can you even stand without my help?” It doesn’t sound cold, in fact, John’s tone seems a bit amused by the situation.

“That would be a no.” John laughs and makes Sherlock sit on the toilet while he starts the taps.

“I’ll let it warm up a bit and get in the shower with you. Don’t you dare vomit on me again.” Sherlock laughs and John laughs, too. Something in Sherlock’s chest warms up at the sound.

John rids himself of his clothes, keeping only his pants. Sherlock thinks he would like to be rid of them but then again, John let him keep his. Sherlock is amazed by John’s body, he can hardly look away. As John reaches for him, his warmth takes Sherlock’s breath away.

“Come on, now.” John takes him into the shower and puts his head under the flow. John’s hands are holding him and Sherlock cannot remember when he felt like he ever belonged in this world, but right now, he does feel like he does, in his shower, with John surrounding him. John makes him turn around and positions himself in his back and Sherlock allows himself to feel every place on his body where John is touching him. John kisses his back and again. Sherlock feels like his brain just shut off. John turns him around again, to face him. His eyes tell Sherlock how much he cares and his breath gets caught in his throat.

“On your knees, beautiful boy. I have to wash your hair out, from all the vomit you put in there and you’re a tall git.” Sherlock proceeds to get on his knees with John’s help not to fall.

Sherlock allows himself to close his eyes while John washes him, his hair, his chest. John’s fingers in his hair feel divine and Sherlock likes it a bit too much, his own body betraying him. A sound escapes his throat and it sounds needy. He hugs John’s legs.

“I don’t think I ever felt safer. Thank you.” As the words escape Sherlock’s mouth, he realises it must sound clingy and needy and emotional, but he couldn’t care less. John takes him by the upper arms and guides him onto his feet. John looks at him in the eyes and puts a kiss on his lips. It mustn’t taste good, he hasn’t had the chance to brush his teeth yet but John doesn’t seem to mind. It’s just a small kiss but it means everything.

“Ok, now I have to get rid of your vomit. Hold onto my waist if you need to, but let me under the flow, please.”

“You stink, John. But if I hold onto you, you will be able to feel how aroused I am to have you in my shower and that would make both of us uncomfortable as we haven’t discussed sex, yet.” John laughs and spins them to take Sherlock’s spot under the flow.

“For the record, your own state of arousal is not unrequited…” He holds Sherlock closer to him to allow him to understand, “I just prefer to not take advantage when you’re this drunk, although you do make a lot of sense with your words. Now, just stand close and let me wash. We’ll dry ourselves up and I’ll put you to bed in a minute.”

Sherlock allows it and closes his eyes for a bit. When John shuts the water off, they both get out and he dries Sherlock’s body with an unprecedented gentleness. He puts a towel around his hair and dries it a bit, too. He then leads Sherlock to his bed and lets him sit. He shuffles around a bit in his drawers before finding the one that he was looking for. He comes back near Sherlock with clean pants.

“Change your pants and I’ll go get some paracetamol and water for you. Then, I’ll allow you to sleep.” Before John can leave the room, Sherlock takes his hand.

“You can take some of my clothes to change, too. I don’t mind. It’ll feel better than wet pants.” Sherlock offers and John lets his thumb soothe the back of Sherlock’s hand. He bends down and kisses his cheek.

“Thank you, Sherlock.”

Just like that, John goes in the kitchen and comes back with water and paracetamol. It allowed Sherlock to change his pants and get under his duvet. John hands him the glass of water and Sherlock downs it in one go. It makes John laugh and go back to fill it once again. He comes back and Sherlock takes the tablets before putting his head on his pillow.

“Thank you, John.” John soothes Sherlock by letting his hand roam in his hair and he kisses his forehead. When Sherlock feels John pulling away, Sherlock almost cries out.

“Don’t go. I need you to stay here.” Sherlock pleads and he has never sounded so needy in his life.

John kisses his lips quickly before talking, “I’ll just go change, sweetheart. I’ll come back and stay close until you fall asleep.” John leaves the room with pants and a t-shirt Sherlock didn’t even remember he owned.

When he comes back, he joins Sherlock under the duvet and pulls Sherlock close to him, allowing Sherlock to put his head on his chest and listen to his heart. Sherlock falls asleep in seconds and doesn’t remember the last time he actually considered himself happy.

* * *

When John wakes up in the night with a tall man surrounding him, he smiles and kisses the curls on top of Sherlock’s head. Sherlock seems to mumble something and his head shifts a bit to kiss John’s chest. John closes his eyes when he realises that Sherlock did this unconsciously and he falls asleep again revelling the feeling of the beautiful man in his arms. _I’m falling for him, hard._


	6. A Whiter Shade of Pale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy stuff, then sad stuff, then happy stuff. That's how it works, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely going towards the Explicit rating, slowly but surely. Be warned.

John always disliked flying for long periods of time. A flight to LAX usually takes around 10 hours and it feels worse when your boyfriend (_boyfriend?_) is back at home, mad at you because you have to go to a conference on another continent, and you couldn’t bring him for the trip. Sherlock had let him know that abandoning him was selfish. John got used to Sherlock’s mood swings and his childlike temperament on these matters, he apologised and shortened his trip by two days, making him away from Sherlock only for two days. He would fly back the morning after the conference. To be honest, he was going to miss him but a trip would do him good to sort out what they were becoming to each other. John had been wanting to initiate intimate relations but feared that would be inadequate or too demanding early in their new relationship. Taking his time was sometime he could do, but Sherlock was certainly becoming part of all of his fantasies as of late. Perhaps when he got back, he could show Sherlock how he had missed him.

They hadn’t discussed it all that much, thinking it would take its natural course. Let it be what it needs to be. The thing was that before getting on the plane, John hadn’t seen Sherlock in about a week. The Christmas Party still a fond memory, John missed Sherlock all the same. He had many things to sort before leaving, many things to do for his job. He couldn’t get a minute, and neither did Sherlock. It had been a lot of texting and late phone calls, which ultimately lead to one of them falling asleep while on the phone. A Christmas break was hectic for professors and John resented the word ‘break’. The flight was the first time he had a chance to breathe normally in days.

Of course, Sherlock was mad because he thought he could have seen John, but deep in his thoughts when John had told him he had to leave for a conference, he didn’t remember and was therefore mad at John to leave him behind. Sherlock called before John got on the plane and told him to have a safe flight, only to hang up on him right after.

John must have drifted off because he wakes up as they land in Los Angeles. How sunny and beautiful. John smiles and thinks that Sherlock wouldn’t have enjoyed the weather but John most certainly would have enjoyed the company. At least, it was going to be a short trip.

* * *

John finally settles in his hotel room, sits on his bed and decides to FaceTime Sherlock to tell him he got there safe. He could just phone, but seeing Sherlock always brightens his day. It doesn’t ring for long and Sherlock answers, still pouting.

“Hello, John.” John can tell Sherlock doesn’t want to look directly at the camera, like he is avoiding his gaze.

John smirks and makes an attempt at humour, “Well, hello. Have you deduced yet how stupid your reaction was?”

Sherlock snorts and finally looks up, “I miss you. Come back.” John can definitely see Sherlock is sincere and it breaks his heart a little.

“I will, in two days. I booked an earlier flight back, so I could come back to you.” If John was already falling for the man, he would be right now when witnessing how his whole face lights up when he is genuinely happy. Sherlock is smiling, unguarded. John feels blessed that he can witness that smile, only he can see it and he intends to remain the only one who can see it.

Sherlock lets his smile fade a little and takes a calm tone that sends shivers down John’s spine, “You must be exhausted after your long flight.”

John smiles, “I slept on the plane, I’m good. That’s a wrong deduction, for once.” John winks at him and Sherlock lightens up.

“Did you just wink at me?” John laughs at Sherlock’s comment, “What if I did?” John notices his own teasing and winks again.

Sherlock shrugs, “You did it again, you winked at me.”

“It’s proven to be a good seduction technique, most of the time, anyway. Although I can see you find it rather amusing.” John pinches his nose and closes his eyes. He lets his tongue wet his lips and he hears Sherlock gasping. He opens his eyes again only to see Sherlock looking at him, transfixed.

“God, your lips.” Sherlock’s voice just went deeper than usual and John is undeniably responsive to this tone.

As though Sherlock could see the effect his voice had, he adds “I can’t wait to kiss you in the airport when you come back. I’m going to snog you senseless. Your knees will budge and you will want to take me to the nearest private space to let me know just how much you’ve missed me.” John senses Sherlock is gauging John’s reaction to that kind of talk.

“Sherlock, you’d better stop talking like that, because it’s hot in California and it makes the blood flow go to certain places a lot faster.” John feels his trousers getting tighter and his palms getting sweaty. He lets a hand run through his no-doubt messy, airplane hair.

Sherlock is definitely teasing, “Oh, John. I don’t think that’s how this works. I think you would have the same response to me, here, in London.”

John inhales deeply, “Perhaps you’re right. But the thing is, I’m on another continent and I’m hard. Because of you.”

“Oh, don’t be mistaken, John. I have a similar response to you, right now.” John feels his erection become harder still.

John is finding it hard to breathe when his trousers press down painfully on his throbbing erection. He doesn’t care about anything and begins palming himself through his trousers, moaning louder than he wanted to.

“Jesus, that’s hot. So fucking hot, Sherlock.” John grits his teeth and closes his eyes for a bit, allowing himself to enjoy this.

“Touching yourself through your trousers? Are you twelve? Get out of your clothes, now!” If John wasn’t so absorbed by his palm, he would have thought Sherlock was having a hard time articulating coherent thoughts when he is aroused.

“You’d better get out of your pyjamas, too. Better not to soil them, considering I do most of your laundry.” John smirks and proceeds to remove everything he is wearing, watching Sherlock do the same through his screen. Once naked, John can’t resist anymore and begins jerking off with his left hand, still holding his phone in his right. He can tell Sherlock decides to do the same when he understands John is doing it.

They both decided not to show anything lower than their chests, to John’s demand of not wanting to see Sherlock completely naked for the first time through a screen and Sherlock acquiesced.

“Sherlock, I’m really close.” John barely has time to finish his sentence when he comes all over his fingers. Sherlock makes a throaty sound and exhales and John believes Sherlock might have just come almost at the same time.

“Thank you, for that.” Sherlock sounds needy and John wishes he could reach out and hold him close.

“I didn’t do anything,” John remarks but smiles at Sherlock anyway.

Sherlock looks directly in the camera as though to make eye contact, “You always do much more than you think.”

John snorts, but he actually feels what Sherlock just said, “You’re a romantic, aren’t you? Despite your façade… you’re soft. Like me.”

Sherlock looks away, shrugs and says shyly, “Maybe.”

John looks at the mess and looks around and despite his kip in the plane, he actually feels tired.

“Look, I’ll go shower and sleep before the conference tomorrow. I’m still a bit jetlagged and I want to rest before coming home to you. It’s almost 10pm here. So it means it’s the middle of the night for you, get some rest. I can’t wait to see you.” John lets his emotions show as best as he can through his phone screen.

“Sleep well, John.”

“Sweet dreams, Sherlock.”

Just like this, he hangs up and gets up to pick some clothes to go shower.

* * *

The conference John gives is well received amongst his peers from around the world and John is proud of the work he has presented. On his way back to the hotel, his phone rings and it’s Sherlock. Seeing his caller ID is enough to make John grin from ear to ear.

John is so happy, he allows himself to say, “Hello, beautiful.”

“Hello, John. I must say, after watching your conference live online, I’m impressed. I might just ask you out on a date to prove I’m worthy of you.” John laughs and whispers in the phone “No need for a date. Let’s skip to the good part, already.”

Sherlock laughs and John loves how unguarded Sherlock is whenever John speaks to him or whenever John is close. To John, that’s the real Sherlock and he thinks it’s a real shame no one gets to see him like that, although, to be fair, he doesn’t want to share.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” A short pause, calculated, “What time do you land tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

John smirks into his phone, “Desperate to get me naked?”

“Unbelievably so.”

John laughs, “I’m landing at 2 in the afternoon, London time. You’d better not be late. I’m desperate, too.” He can hear Sherlock giggling on the other side and he feels immediate warmth reach him all over at the sound. There is nothing better than this.

* * *

Sherlock can barely contain his joy at the thought of picking up John at the airport. On his way there, he stops at a corner shop to get some flowers. It will be corny as hell, John will laugh but Sherlock is sure he will like the thought. Even if it only results in a laugh, it’ll be worth it. Nothing is better than seeing and hearing John laugh. As he makes his way back to his cab, he notices the cab has left and that the street seems quite empty. The bad part of town, it’s no surprise the cabbie left him here. He gets out the phone of his pocket to call Mycroft to send him a car, his brother might be an annoying prat, but he always sends his driver if needed.

The fact that Mycroft is the chancellor of the university is only a nice façade for an undercover operation. Sherlock teaching there, too. The plan is to find the professor who has been killing his students for the past few years. Mycroft is actually a significant part of the British government and today, that is a relief. Only, something moved in the corner of his eye and as he looks around, he feels someone keeping him in place. Definitely someone male, approximately 6 feet in height, and a blade is pressing close to his lower back.

Fortunately enough, the call went through so Mycroft can hear everything that’s going on. Sherlock does his best to keep his voice from trembling, “What do you want? My wallet is in my coat’s inside pocket. There’s £300 in there.”

“That’s a nice watch you got there.”

“That watch isn’t even worth £80. It just has sentimental value. Take all my money if you want, but that watch will remain on my wrist.” Sherlock will not go down without a fight and the watch John gave him is worth more than anything else, there is no way he will give it up.

“Too bad for ya, I’ll just have to take it meself.” His voice is nasty and Sherlock doesn’t want to be scared, but the truth is, he is. He wants to get to John and alive would be better.

Sherlock turns around to punch the guy but the guy is quicker and the blade pierces through his belly. Sherlock feels his breath becoming ragged as he falls to the ground, bleeding through his nice clothes. He hears someone shouting, tyres screeching, a gunshot and Mycroft is leaning over him, although it looks like a blurred vision.

“We got him. Sherlock, for God’s sake.” Mycroft applies pressure to Sherlock’s abdomen and Sherlock feels his lids becoming heavy.

“Stay with me, Sherlock. Don’t close your eyes.” Sherlock can’t breathe, the pain is too much.

“John… John is… waiting for me.” That’s all he can say before his eyes close against his better judgement.

* * *

John feels giddy when he walks through the arrivals gate at Heathrow and tries to spot Sherlock waiting for him. He cannot wait to pull him into his arms and kiss him right here. When he sees Mycroft waiting for him, his gut clenches and he begins to tremble.

“What happened?” John tries to keep his voice void of emotion, but the thought that anything happened to Sherlock is threatening to make him sick.

Mycroft looks around and decides to speak anyway, “He got stabbed while getting flowers for you. He wouldn’t give up his watch.”

That’s just Sherlock, not giving up his watch. The stupid prick.

John absorbs the information and his knees give up, although the way he was promised they would. “That watch was a gift… Jesus… he got stabbed for a watch that’s not…” John tries to be strong but he can’t help the tears, he is crying in the middle of the airport.


	7. Open Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some Explicit-rated stuff.

For what looks like hours, John stands in the middle of Sherlock’s room, hearing Mycroft explain everything. John feels like his world has stopped and everything went wrong in a matter of seconds.

“I’m sorry, John. It’s not critical, he just lost a lot of blood. He’ll be in pain for a few weeks, but he’s out of danger… for the time being.” Mycroft’s voice doesn’t sound concerned at all and it reassures John, although it scares him a bit, too.

“For the time being?”

Mycroft begins telling him everything, “I promised Sherlock I would let him tell you, but under the circumstances… My job as chancellor of Hudson University is only a front, and so his Sherlock’s job as a professor. I believe you’ve met Greg Lestrade… He’s the DI on this whole thing. Needed our help, again. I occupy a position in the British government and Sherlock is a consulting detective. Sherlock and Lestrade have been working together on cases for years. Anyway, we were sent to find and neutralise a professor who has been killing students for a few years. Sherlock and I found many suspects and sent away many professors to make sure. We are in the final phase of this plan. You weren’t supposed to know but we were about to bring you in on it. Lestrade and Sherlock told me we could trust you. Sherlock’s involvement with you was unplanned and maybe a bit careless, but it drew attention towards him that gave us a major lead. Professor Moriarty is our prime suspect and we intend to be able to arrest him before the end of the next term.”

John feels like he can’t breathe, his vision is blurring and everything is spinning. He sits down near Sherlock and puts his head on the bed, near Sherlock’s hand to compose himself.

John is definitely confused, hurt and angry. He looks up to stare at Mycroft, “You’ve all been lying to me all this time?”

Mycroft looks at him, “Maybe about a few things, but Sherlock’s feelings are genuine, I assure you.”

John gets up and looks at Sherlock lying in his bed before leaving, telling Mycroft he needs time to think.

* * *

Sherlock wakes up to Mycroft sitting near, and although a bit disoriented, he understands that John is not there.

“Where’s John?” His voice sounds raspy. Mycroft gets him a glass of water and looks at him like he is analysing him. “I had to tell him everything, Sherlock. He knows.”

Sherlock does his best to sound mad, the pain aiding his urgent tone, “How could you? I was supposed to tell him that. Now he’ll think I didn’t care about him.”

Just then, John comes in. He must have been hovering near the door. “You went through a stabbing for a shitty watch because it was proof of my feelings towards you. I don’t doubt you care, Sherlock. I just wished you would have been honest, that’s all. It’s a lot to digest.”

Sherlock finally lays eyes upon John and John smiles, although his smile is not as usual. He walks close to Sherlock and hugs him for what feels like an eternity, yet it’s not enough.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Just like that, Mycroft leaves the room and Sherlock feels something wet reach his neck. John is crying and his tears are coming down on his neck.

“John…”

John hugs him tight and it feels urgent, although John is careful not to apply pressure on his wound, “If there’s ever a next time, give up the fucking watch. I can buy you another but I can’t replace you.” 

Sherlock takes John’s cheeks in his hand to force him to look at him, “Okay…” He looks at John and lets his eyes speak for him.

John presses a soft kiss to his lips and lies down next to Sherlock, still careful not to hurt him. Sherlock kisses the top of John’s head and lets his head rest on John’s. Sherlock lets his fingers play through John’s hair for a while. Sherlock doesn’t want to disturb John who seems to be falling asleep, but he has to ask, “Are we okay?”

John looks up to his eyes, “You’ll have to explain when you feel better, but as far as we are concerned, we’re okay. I told you I wouldn’t leave, Sherlock. I don’t know what to do to make you believe me.” John lets his head fall back and takes a deep breath, hugging Sherlock tighter.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, “I believe you. You’re here, aren’t you? I’m not just hallucinating this?”

“I’m here.” John’s soft reassurance is enough to lull him back to sleep.

* * *

The next few days are not easy, Sherlock is in pain and the hospital won’t discharge him unless he goes living with a relative for the time of his recovery. Fortunately, John is there to save him again.

John talks with the doctor, “I’ll go live with him. I’m a doctor. I can take care of him.”

The doctor doesn’t seem sure but eventually agrees and Sherlock couldn’t be happier to leave the hospital and go home. To go home with John is surely an added bonus.

The cab ride was awful and Sherlock has a hard time not letting his pain show on his face. John puts a hand on his knee and leans toward his ear.

“You’re in pain, aren’t you? I’ve got morphine in the bag they gave us, I’ll give you some once we’re at Baker Street.” John takes Sherlock by the shoulder while talking and makes him rest his head on his thigh. He soothes Sherlock by letting his fingers massage his temples and his hair.

Sherlock immediately feels a bit better and closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, he is on his sofa, confused as hell, “John?”

John comes from the kitchen, “Hey, you’re awake.”

Sherlock is still confused, “How did I get here?” 

“You fell asleep in the cab and once we arrived, you wouldn’t move. I had to carry you. You were completely out so I let you sleep. I put you on the sofa so I could be close in case. Feeling any pain?” John’s voice is full of care and Sherlock is amazed by the man in front of him.

Sherlock lets his hand ruffle his hair and groans a bit. “Yes. But before you give me anything that’ll put me out for the night, can you help me shower? I long for a hot shower with you instead of two nurses.”

John smiles and goes to help him up. He takes Sherlock by the waist and leads him to the bathroom. He makes Sherlock sit on the toilet while he undresses him and it’s so gentle, Sherlock feels his heart flutter. John starts the taps and proceeds to undress, too. Once both naked, he makes Sherlock stands in front of him, steadying him with his hands on his waist. He looks at Sherlock’s bandages and sighs.

“I’ll change your bandages after. Let’s get in there, we smell.” John smirks and Sherlock grips John’s biceps and lets himself be led to the shower.

John is very gentle with him and washes him carefully. Sherlock allows himself to be cared for and his natural instinct would be to find this under him, but he might just be human after all because there is nothing in the world he would trade this for. Sherlock must have closed his eyes because John is asking him to open them again.

“There you are. God, you’re beautiful…” A pause until John’s hand reaches the bottle of expansive shower gel and he goes to his knees to wash Sherlock’s legs, “I thought the first time I’d see you completely naked, we’d be doing different things. But this is nice.”

John is washing his legs, going up and down. He washes everything. When it’s time to wash his penis, he looks directly into Sherlock’s eyes, asking for permission. Sherlock nods and lets himself be touched this way.

John is being very thorough and Sherlock glances at the naked John in front of him, only to notice that John is sporting a very full erection. Sherlock makes eye contact with John, takes the bottle of shower gel, puts some in his hand and pins John to the wall, although John could escape easily.

“Sherlock, what are you…?” It’s barely above a whisper and Sherlock feels it going directly to his cock. He realises he wasn’t soft either, and seeing John this way only makes it even more arousing.

Sherlock proceeds to kiss John with everything he has. He lets his emotions show through that kiss, as his life until this moment was only meant to kiss John Watson in the shower. He reaches for John’s neck and John moans, he lets his tongue taste John’s jaw, the spot behind his left ear. John moans again and this time it feels needy. He lets in right hand grab John’s cock and begins to stroke gently, the soap making a nice foam. John puts his head on Sherlock’s shoulder and reaches for Sherlock’s cock. When he feels John’s fist closing around him, everything that was ever important is not anymore. This is it. He could die right here and he would be content.

John is stroking him and it’s the best thing he has ever felt. With this in mind, he feels close to the finish line and his strokes on John become more urgent, he wants to make John finish before him. He kisses John’s neck again and that’s all it takes for John.

“Oh, Jesus fuck, Sherlock.” John is coming all over his hand and Sherlock smiles at the thought that he did that.

John’s fist is faster and when he twists it a bit at the end, letting his thumb flick over his balls, Sherlock comes undone, his mouth making a sound of its own accord, his knees giving up before him. John is here however and keeps him from falling, “I’ve got you.”

They proceed to wash their bodies and get out of the shower. They go to Sherlock’s bedroom and John gives Sherlock some morphine pills before lying down next to him in bed. He lets Sherlock rest on his chest and caress his hair absentmindedly. Sherlock falls asleep thinking of the most amazing thing that ever happened to him. It goes by the name of John Watson.

* * *

Sherlock wakes up in the middle of the night when he hears screaming and he can tell immediately that John is having a nightmare. He pins John to the bed with both of his hands.

No time for cute stuff, he screams loud enough to wake the building, “John, wake up!”

John opens his eyes and he is without a doubt troubled. He looks up at Sherlock sitting on him and smiles, something clicking in his brain, “You’ve got me, too.”

Sherlock understands John is awake and himself again, so he gets off John and lies back next to him. “Nightmare?”

“Yes. You… wouldn’t wake up. You were lying in a pool of blood and there was nothing I could do.” John’s voice is trembling and he can feel it in his throat.

“I am here. I am alive and well.” Sherlock tries to reassure John, but he has never dealt with someone sleeping in his bed, even less comforting someone after a nightmare.

“I know… Kiss me.” It sounds like a pleading demand and Sherlock would never deny John.

He turns around on his side carefully trying not to hurt his wound and he kisses John. It’s not heated, it’s only reassurance. It’s soft and slow. It’s everything he’d like to say to reassure John that everything is fine.

Sherlock thinks for a moment and decides to take a leap of faith, to show how committed he is to John. “Come with me to my parents’ for New Year’s. I want to start the year with you in my arms, and my parents would love to meet you.”

John takes a deep breath and locks eyes with Sherlock, before caressing his cheek ever so gently, John smiles and kisses him softly before answering, “I’d love to.”


	8. Always Remember Us This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little New Year's Eve fun for well, the New Year coming.

John is sitting on the sofa with Sherlock resting his head on his lap, they are watching a documentary. Correction, Sherlock is watching a documentary. John is trying to not fall asleep. John lets his hands wander through Sherlock’s hair and can’t believe he is even allowed to do this. The domesticity of their relationship has evolved quickly, with John staying with Sherlock to help him get better. His wound does look a lot better and Sherlock has become his normal annoying self again. John has been wondering when would be the best time to ask about the undercover operation but decided to wait until Sherlock could at least take care of himself again. Eventually, John will have to go back to his own flat. Before that, they still have to talk about many things. Now is as good a time as any.

John continues to let his fingers play in Sherlock’s hair but inquires softly, “Sherlock?”

Sherlock seems to switch his brain back on and acknowledges him, “Hmm?”

He stops his fingers and makes Sherlock look up at him, “If we are going to your parents’ tomorrow, I want answers tonight. I want to know everything, please.” Sherlock looks directly into his eyes and John is once again taken aback by the beauty he finds there. Sherlock takes a deep breath and decides to sit beside John, to face him for this.

“Took you long enough. Alright, then.” Sherlock seems to have retreated to an emotionless state and he braces himself. John puts one hand on his knee and smiles warmly at him, to tell him that he’ll be there no matter what. Sherlock processes this and relaxes before looking at John again.

“Telling you this means you become part of it, you get that?”

John makes eye contact and lets his emotions show, unafraid. “According to Mycroft, I was part of it before I even knew about it… But yes, Sherlock. I’m in.” It seems like it was the right thing to say because Sherlock takes a deep breath and seems to be about to tell him everything.

“Right. I am a consulting detective. The only one in the world. I guess that’s hardly a surprise because you are aware of my deductive skills. Now, I have been doing that for maybe six years. I work with Lestrade, he is with Scotland Yard. Probably the least stupid there… Anyway, Lestrade and I have known each other for a long time, he saved my life, back then, and now. The work he gives me keeps me off the drugs, it allows me to not get bored. And this way, I don’t feel tempted to touch anything. We have had many cases over the years and this one is the most complicated I have ever worked on. A few months back, we noticed a pattern in students disappearing and found later dead, all from Hudson University. I inquired and knew for sure it was an inside job, whether another student or a professor. I told Lestrade I needed to go in and find out things. I began working there last winter semester. This has been my longest operation and I needed backup, so Lestrade came in with Mycroft this autumn. They arrived only one week before you so that we could set up the operation. We even put Mrs. Hudson in on it. Her name is really Mrs. Hudson, so we figured making people think she was the one who owned the university wouldn’t be hard. That part was not as crucial as Mycroft taking the chancellor spot. It had to be believable but that was the best option, Mycroft teaching would have been awful. Lestrade and I meet sometimes to compare information on our colleagues. Anyway, we all thought professor Moriarty was definitely up to something. He has been coming on to me for a while, wanted to take me out on a date… told him I wasn’t interested in any of that, which was true at the time. Then, I met you. And it worked out so well that he is jealous and it’s only a matter of time before he starts acting up again and we’ll be there to catch him when he does.”

John doesn’t stop listening for a second and he can see that Sherlock loves this, loves his job. No one would speak like this about anything unless there was a passion behind it. He swallows and leans it, trying to make sense of it all. Yet, one question remains.

“And me?” John asks only this, but Sherlock seems to get it immediately.

“My brother saw your resume online and showed it to me. A former soldier, a former doctor, who wants to be a professor. We thought you were a bit overqualified but I told Mycroft you could become an asset when and if we needed you. You were clearly someone with strong moral principles and I told him it would be a good thing for us, to have someone objective in the operation. We cleared you within a day and I have been wanting to tell you ever since that first day who I really am, wanted to tell you to work with me. I know you love adrenaline and I believed it would be a great opportunity for us to get to know each other, and even be friends. Of course, it became even better than that. But Mycroft, he wanted me to keep silent about it all. To protect you and he was right… but I grew fond of you and I let my guard down, I let you in and I… that was probably the best decision I’ve ever made, because of the case… and because it led us to this.” Sherlock gestures between them, and smiles at John. He continues, “I can’t be sorry for not telling you John, it protected you. Now, you won’t have that protection anymore. If it becomes known that you are, that you were in on this, Moriarty could torture you to get to me. And I can’t let that happen to you. I can’t even think about it.” At this, Sherlock looks down, shaking like a leaf.

“Sherlock, I understand. It’s okay. But just so you know, knowing about this can only be could, because it means I can protect you too.” He puts one hand on Sherlock’s cheek and forces him to look up. “I want this, whatever the consequences. We are in this together from now on. No more secrets.” Sherlock seems undeniably relieved of John’s words and breathes, the shivering has stopped.

Sherlock looks at John directly in the eyes and John can see a lot written on his face, “No more secrets, John. I promise.”

That is enough for John, that is all he needed tonight. He leans in and kisses Sherlock, slowly at first, meant as a reassurance. Sherlock clearly has other ideas and the kiss becomes heated in a matter of seconds. John lets himself revel in it and kisses back fiercely. He lets his tongue go over Sherlock’s lips to ask for permission, silently. Sherlock grants him with a moan and he shifts closer to John. Sherlock lets his hand travel on John’s back and forces John to get closer. Sherlock always loves to feel him up close. John loves this, too.

John lets one hand trail Sherlock’s back and the other is going up and down on his thigh. Sherlock seems to mimic his actions and John loves every minute of it. They are both sitting rather closely on the sofa, barely coming out for air and kissing savagely. It says what they cannot put into words. John shifts a bit and begins to kiss Sherlock’s neck, Sherlock’s arms and the spot behind his ear. They haven’t had sex since the shower the other day and it seems that they are both in need of it now. Sherlock’s moans send signals to John’s own arousal and his pyjamas and pants seem too tight all of a sudden. John decides to endure a bit longer, he wants to take his time to make Sherlock feel everything he feels for him in his actions if he can’t articulate it just yet.

“John, take me to bed, please.” Something seems to click in his mind and he understands just what Sherlock is asking. It’s not just sex, now.

He gets up and makes Sherlock follow him, “God, yes.”

They get to Sherlock’s bedroom unscathed, although they almost fell many times while getting there, getting tangled in each other’s, in their clothes that are now resting on the floor. They are looking at each other beside the bed and John continues to ravish him with kisses, his erection pressing into Sherlock’s thigh. He moans and grits his teeth at the contact. Sherlock seems in the same state, his brain has probably shut down a bit by now.

John wants to let him know he is there with him, that nothing is off-limits, “What do you want, Sherlock? Anything you want, it’s yours.” Sherlock is taken aback and opens his eyes, flushed with desire.

“You. You’re all I want.” If John wasn’t this aroused and in this need of knowing what to do next, he would probably melt at the words Sherlock just said.

John rests his hand on Sherlock’s waist and smiles, “Me too, Sherlock. But I mean, now. What do you want me to do?”

Sherlock seems to think about it for a second, “Oh… I looked up a few things on the Internet… Can I try them on you?” Sherlock looks at him and tries to read him, John can tell when the detective skills kick in.

“Anything you want, Sherlock.” And that’s all it takes for Sherlock to lead him to bed, pushing John unto it. Sherlock is rather bossy in bed, it seems. John thinks he is in for a treat, Sherlock never does anything halfway. No half measure with this incredible man. He doesn’t even think about asking what Sherlock researched and allows himself to completely let go, to be at Sherlock’s mercy.

Sherlock kisses him, settling on top of him and hovering closely, just enough to tease him with his proximity. He lets his hands wander on John’s body and he seems to be cataloging how John reacts to his touch. Sherlock reaches for something under his pillow and John sees a bottle of lube being uncapped, Sherlock putting some on his hands and then touching John’s cock with it. It’s a bit cold but the contrast of his warm hands and the cold lube is definitely something pleasurable. He moans again, louder this time and his hips buckle without warning. Sherlock pins him down, but his hand is still stroking him very slowly. Then he begins to kiss many parts of him. He starts on his lips, going down to his neck and biting slowly, gently, making John moan uncontrollably again. His hand has gained a bit of speed but nothing that will make him come too quickly. Sherlock begins to kiss John’s chest, letting his tongue and teeth create a nice sensation on John’s left nipple. John is glad Sherlock doesn’t put his attention on his gunshot wound, it’s not attractive at all and Sherlock seems to not even care. It’s only now that John realises that his hands could be doing things, too. John places a hand in Sherlock’s hair and massages it, letting him know he likes where it’s going. Sherlock moans a bit and John feels it in every fibre of his being. When he thinks he could come from this alone, Sherlock kisses the end of his prick, gently, and takes him in his mouth slowly. John’s mind shuts off and he has to restrain himself because his hips are about to start thrusting.

He utters syllables, he hopes they make sense, “God… that’s.. God.” It makes Sherlock chuckle and the sensation on his cock is unlike anything he ever felt. Just then, Sherlock grabs his arse and he accelerates his movements up and down his prick, sucking gently at the end, letting his tongue apply pressure along the way. One of his fingers seems to be probing gently on his arsehole, and he can hear Sherlock think from down there. It comes out like a plea, but it kind of is, “Yes, do it. Please.”

Sherlock doesn’t need to be told twice, his finger is still slick from the lube and John feels Sherlock circles his anus. He cannot remember anything that ever felt so good. Sherlock is sucking on his prick with a goal in mind and John will come soon. John remembers that he will have to tell Sherlock to remove his mouth soon. As he thinks this, a finger is inside him and circling slowly, stretching him a bit but the feeling is unlike anything he has ever felt. Sherlock is touching him in his most intimate places and there’s nothing like this in the whole world that would make him leave that. He feels Sherlock’s urgent erection on his leg and shifts a bit so that Sherlock can ride it if he wants. Sherlock takes the cue and begins thrusting. There is nothing slow anymore, they are both working toward the same goal. Sherlock’s finger goes in and out again, and John allows himself to be fucked by Sherlock’s finger and mouth. When Sherlock touches his prostate, John swears as he sees stars, “Sherlock, fuck. I’m…” and that’s all he has the time to say before he explodes in Sherlock’s mouth that is rather intent on licking him clean after this earth-shattering orgasm. Sherlock stopped thrusting at some point and John takes him by the shoulders, his prick too sensitive now.

“God, kiss me.” Sherlock obliges immediately and John can taste himself in Sherlock’s mouth. He reaches down to touch Sherlock and he kisses him with the same abandon as before. Sherlock shivers when John’s hand reaches his cock and the sound he makes is the nicest thing he ever heard. John is proud to be the only one allowed to touch him this way, the only one allowed to make him feel good like this.

John thinks that he is as inexperienced as Sherlock in this area, but he wants to get him off as spectacularly as Sherlock got him off.

John lets out his captain's voice, “Kneel on the bed, put your hands on the wall to brace yourself.”

Sherlock seems to like being told things, too. He does it and when he is about to ask questions, John shuts him up by letting his left hand work his cock slowly. He sees the lube next to their knees and applies some to work Sherlock’s prick with ease. He continues his assault and remembers his own research.

John drops his voice a bit and bends over Sherlock, to be near his ear, “Fortunately for you, I haven’t been idle. I researched stuff, too.” Sherlock already seems far gone, John has rendered him wordless.

John takes back his position between his knees and continues to stroke Sherlock, not too fast. He knows he is on the edge of his orgasm and he wants to work him up to that point slowly.

John takes his captain's voice and tells him, “Sherlock, I’m going to put my tongue in you now. I want you to continue touching yourself.” Sherlock can’t even answer and he grunts, he seems very close now. John takes both of his hands and spread Sherlock’s cheeks, enough to see his hole. His mouth fills with saliva and he gets down and licks a stripe all over his crack. Sherlock buckles his hips and strokes his own cock rather violently. John knows he has seconds, not minutes. He lets his tongue flicker over his hole, and he thinks this is rather a filthy way to fuck someone, but Sherlock is always clean. And he wants to do it, he wants Sherlock to come apart. He does it again and lets his tongue go slowly inside of Sherlock and that’s all it takes, Sherlock clenches and he is coming, shouting John’s name. “Fuck, John….” John smiles to himself and hugs Sherlock’s back, letting them both falling on the bed, spent.

Sherlock is breathing deeply and John smiles, proud to have done this to him.

“That was so hot, Sherlock. My god.” John kisses his nape and allows himself to live in the moment and shifts closer to spoon Sherlock. They are lying in his semen and they will need to get up and wash up, change the sheets, but right now, this is enough.

“I never felt anything like that. It was… good.” Sherlock tells John, and Sherlock turns over to kiss him.

“Just good?” John teases.

“Spectacular. I can’t wait to do it to you.” Sherlock smiles and John is utterly lost in this. John kisses Sherlock slowly, letting him know how he feels with each kiss.

“I want to listen to it, now. The song you recorded for me, back then.” It takes John a moment to process this, but he remembers having done that for him.

“On one condition… you let me play my guitar in front of you sometime soon.”

Sherlock acquiesce and John gets up to go wash up, but Sherlock protests, “Where are you going?”

“I want to wash up and change the sheets before we fall asleep. And I’ll let you listen to my exquisite voice.” He winks at Sherlock while he goes to the loo, the door adjoining in Sherlock’s room is more than convenient. He hops in the shower after having just turned on the taps and the water becomes hot after a few seconds. He begins to wash when he feels hands on his chest and back, and a mouth on his throat, then on his lips. He opens his eyes to see a beautiful and tall man standing before him, “I needed a shower, too. Best to save water and shower together, don’t you think?” He smirks and John loves that part of Sherlock.

They wash their bodies pretty quickly and return to the bedroom, changing the sheets together, like a proper couple. John smiles at the domesticity of their relationship and revels in it. When the bed is made, Sherlock puts the USB key in his laptop and sits beside John. They listen to John singing _Can’t Fight This Feeling_, only accompanied by his guitar and his soothing voice. John listens to himself and the lyrics are still true now. He doesn’t let go of Sherlock’s hand during the whole song. Once it’s done, Sherlock presses play again.

_I can't fight this feeling any longer_

_And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow_

_What started out as friendship_

_Has grown stronger_

_I only wish I had the strength to let it show_

_I tell myself that I can't hold out forever_

_I said there is no reason for my fear_

_'Cause I feel so secure when we're together_

_You give my life direction_

_You make everything so clear_

_And even as I wander_

_I'm keeping you in sight_

_You're a candle in the window_

_On a cold, dark winter's night_

_And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might_

_And I can't fight this feeling anymore_

_I've forgotten what I started fighting for_

_It's time to bring this ship into the shore_

_And throw away the oars, forever_

_'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore_

_I've forgotten what I started fighting for_

_And if I have to crawl upon the floor_

_Come crashing through your door_

_Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore_

_My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you_

_I've been running round in circles in my mind_

_And it always seems that I'm following you, girl_

_'Cause you take me to the places_

_That alone I'd never find_

_And even as I wander_

_I'm keeping you in sight_

_You're a candle in the window_

_On a cold, dark winter's night_

_And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might_

_And I can't fight this feeling anymore_

_I've forgotten what I started fighting for_

_It's time to bring this ship into the shore_

_And throw away the oars, forever_

_'Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore_

_I've forgotten what I started fighting for_

_And if I have to crawl upon the floor_

_Come crashing through your door_

_Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore_

Sherlock looks at him and smiles again, once the second time is over. “Thank you, John, it means a lot to me. I wish you had your guitar now, your voice would help me to come down from the high of our orgasms.” John loves to see Sherlock this unguarded. He kisses Sherlock’s shoulder and leans on him for a bit, then he kisses his cheek. _Post-coital hormones are the best for cuddling, he thinks._

John looks at him and smiles, “Tell you what, I will bring it to your parents and sing you to sleep tomorrow night.”

Sherlock smiles and closes his laptop before letting his head fall on his pillow. John follows him and they fall asleep quickly.

* * *

They are now at Sherlock’s parents. John is alone with Mycroft in the kitchen, while Mummy is talking to Sherlock in the sitting room. John cannot remember the last time he spent New Year’s with family, and it feels like family, here with Sherlock. Mummy already told him to call him Mummy and to call her to complain if Sherlock was an arse. He likes everything so far. He has never felt so at home and yet, it’s not even his own. He feels welcome and wanted, and even Mycroft seems to be compliant. Mycroft cares about his brother a lot and seeing them happy together must be good.

“He is not easy, my brother. But he really likes you. I thought he would never date. He was traumatised at boarding school and his.. preferences were not easy for him to admit. I care for him, John. Please don’t break his heart.” Mycroft’s voice is soft for once, he is not trying to intimidate. His voice is raw and honest and John believes him.

John takes a deep breath, moment of truth, then. “I know you do, Mycroft. I will not break his heart. I’m rather afraid he will break mine.”

Mycroft inhales and seems to be deciding whether or not to share something. John does not have Sherlock’s deductive skills, but he is not daft.

“What is it?”

Mycroft looks surprised but decides to share, “At boarding school, there was an incident. He… It happened when he was a teen, still discovering his body. He was in the shower with other boys, including one who was his only friend. Victor. He had an unfortunate reaction upon seeing his friend naked and well… Many boys mocked him for that and began beating him up, telling him he was a faggot. Victor laughed with the other boys and when they found Sherlock bleeding, naked in the shower, they sent him home and told us the story. We pulled him out of that school, and he was here with his dog for a few months. He started shooting up a few times a month, until it became every week, and so on… His dog died that same year, and Sherlock closed himself up. The drugs became his daily life… He just… never allowed himself to feel anything again, until now.”

John wants to vomit upon hearing this. This is horrible. Sherlock’s life wasn’t easy, that much he knew, but to know this and to see that Sherlock still allows himself to be true to himself, to feel… John just wants to go and hug him right now. He gets up and looks for him. When he finds him, Sherlock seems to know something is wrong and follows him back to their room. They need a moment, alone.

Once inside the room, John hugs Sherlock and cries in his arms. Sherlock doesn’t seem to understand, but then he puts his arms around John’s back.

“Mycroft told you my life story, it seems,” Sherlock states it matter-of-factly.

John doesn’t let his voice tremble, “Sherlock, god... It’s horrible… If I find that Victor… I will kill him.”

Sherlock soothes him, letting his hands caress John’s back, “He’s dead. He got in a bad way with bad people. I had to investigate his murder scene.” If it’s supposed to be horrible, John doesn’t feel that way and begins to giggle.

Sherlock looks at him, perplexed. He understands and giggles with John.

* * *

Dinner was nice, Sherlock’s parents are fond of John and it shows. They ask about their relationship, and John is honest about every part. They talk a lot and the evening goes by.

It is now 11:32 pm. They have a few minutes before the countdown to the New Year. John is keen on kissing Sherlock at midnight, so Sherlock suggested they kiss until then. John accepted. They are now in Sherlock’s bedroom, fooling around.

It was not particularly leading to sex, but it becomes that when John feels Sherlock’s erection pressing against him. He palms Sherlock through his trousers and Sherlock seeks friction against John’s hand.

“Take these off.” John scowls and Sherlock does it, removing any piece of clothing that might come in the way. John follows his lead and they are both naked, panting against each other. They kiss urgently and Sherlock writhes against John. John takes Sherlock’s prick and strokes him, and to his surprise, Sherlock becomes even harder. Their tongues are duelling in their mouths and John moans with abandon. He is panting and gasping for breath. Sherlock releases his mouth and kisses his neck, one hand finding John’s cock and he begins to stroke him. Sherlock finds a bottle of lube on the desk and resumes his strokes. He coats John’s prick nicely and whispers in John’s ear, “Take me. I want you to fuck me.” John shivers upon hearing Sherlock’s voice, so low in his ear, telling him _that_.

“Fuck, yes. If you’re sure.”

Sherlock growls, “I’m sure.”

John doesn’t need to be told twice. He turns Sherlock on his belly and positions him so that he is on all four. He strokes Sherlock’s cock slowly, kissing his back and shoulders, with care. He lets one hand travel to Sherlock’s arse and sets off to prepare his lover. He is about to ask for the lube when Sherlock gives it to him. He can read his mind even like that. He coats his fingers and begins to work Sherlock’s hole. He probes at his hole with one finger, allowing the lube to make it easier. He pushes one finger in, just past the tip and Sherlock growls, though it is certainly in pleasure because he begins to want to ride John’s finger. John works his finger a bit deeper, careful not to hurt Sherlock. Sherlock moans and writhes, he is making sounds that John has never witnessed.

“Fuck, Sherlock, that’s hot. You’re beautiful like this.” John can barely speak but he has to. He relishes the feeling of Sherlock’s tightness around his finger and can’t believe his penis will be there shortly. He has stopped stroking Sherlock as he worked a second finger in, at Sherlock’s demand. When he sees that Sherlock is about to touch himself, he scowls him, “No. Don’t touch yourself.” Sherlock understands that it is not up for discussion. He is gasping for air and John realises he found Sherlock’s prostate. He presses on it and smiles as Sherlock seems incoherent. Just then, he adds another finger. Better be careful. He scissors them a bit to be sure not to hurt Sherlock.

“John, if you don’t fuck me now, I will be mad.” Sherlock has become impatient, it is time.

John reaches for his cock and sees it has remained hard and coated in lube, from when Sherlock put it on him. He is leaking already, it won’t take long. He presses the head of his cock in Sherlock’s arse and Sherlock moans and swears, “Fuck, don’t stop.”

John chuckles at Sherlock’s impatience, “Wasn’t planning on it.” He allows himself to go further until he is completely seated. The sensation nearly overwhelms him and he has to take deep breaths to not come right here and now. He takes a minute to allow Sherlock to become used to the sensation of someone there. He puts his hands on Sherlock’s waist and realises that he wants to see him come, he wants to see his face when Sherlock reaches his climax. Without warning, he slips out and turns them over, going right back in once they are in the right position. He feels Sherlock is not as tense and moves just a bit, putting one hand to hold himself up and one on Sherlock’s cock. He knows already they won’t last. There’s too much between them to last. He looks at Sherlock’s eyes and they are beautiful, looking at John like he is his whole world. John has never felt this way before and just this is enough, he understands what Sherlock is saying with his eyes. He begins to thrust and it’s slow, achingly so. He wants to go faster, but if he does, they will come in an instant. He already feels that his orgasm is near, his belly tightening. Sherlock’s orgasm is close to, going by the way he is leaking and gasping. John accelerates his thrusts and he can’t help his vocal reaction to Sherlock’s tight entrance. John shifts to replace his knee and it seems he hits Sherlock’s prostate, and before he knows it, Sherlock is coming on John’s fingers and belly. John thrusts up once more before letting go and coming, shouting. They are both rather loud and everyone will know that they just had phenomenal sex, but they don’t care. John lets his weight fall on Sherlock and Sherlock hugs him close.

“I could do that all day, every day,” Sherlock confesses and John kisses his lips, still revelling the feeling of his cock inside him and he can’t believe he got so lucky. He slips out carefully, knowing Sherlock might be sore. He smiles and lies beside Sherlock, caressing Sherlock’s chest.

Moments later, he gets up and gets a flannel to clean them and resume his previous position, in Sherlock’s arms. Sherlock’s breathing has slowed down a bit, but he is not asleep. John decides it’s the moment for what he had planned. He gets up and goes to his things in the corner of the room.

Sherlock seems at a loss, “What are you doing?”

John finds his guitar and joins Sherlock in bed with it. “I told you I would sing you to sleep. I learnt a song for you and it’s the time for it.”

Sherlock is definitively pleased and smiles at John, and John feels his heart flutter. Sherlock looks dishevelled, his hair sticking up in many places. He is tired, but he is smiling and it’s the best smile he has given John. John leans down and kisses Sherlock. He looks at the clock on the wall only to realise they missed the countdown… _To hell with that, this was certainly more satisfying. _

John smiles while kissing Sherlock, “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

Sherlock smiles against John’s lips, “Happy New Year, John.”

John sits back up and takes his guitar. He takes a deep breath and begins to sing for Sherlock. He was always rather shy about doing this in front of people, but for Sherlock, it’s different somehow. No barriers. Just them.

The first notes come along nicely and he begins to sing, knowing that his voice is nice, not extraordinary, but it works. He lets the words slip out without effort, pouring everything he feels right now in his interpretation of _Always Remember Us This Way._

_That Arizona sky burning in your eyes_

_You look at me and, babe, I wanna catch on fire_

_It's buried in my soul like California gold_

_You found the light in me that I couldn't find_

_So when I'm all choked up_

_But I can't find the words_

_Every time we say goodbye_

_Baby, it hurts_

_When the sun goes down_

_And the band won't play_

_I'll always remember us this way_

_Lovers in the night_

_Poets trying to write_

_We don't know how to rhyme_

_But, damn, we try_

_But all I really know_

_You're where I wanna go_

_The part of me that's you will never die_

_So when I'm all choked up_

_But I can't find the words_

_Every time we say goodbye_

_Baby, it hurts_

_When the sun goes down_

_And the band won't play_

_I'll always remember us this way_

_Oh, yeah_

_I don't wanna be just a memory, baby, yeah_

_When I'm all choked up_

_But I can't find the words_

_Every time we say goodbye_

_Baby, it hurts_

_When the sun goes down_

_And the band won't play_

_I'll always remember us this way, oh, yeah_

_When you look at me_

_And the whole world fades_

_I'll always remember us this way_

Sherlock listens intently until the end and John sees Sherlock tearing up, and John does too. There are many things left to be said, but the amount of feelings they have towards one another is undeniable.

“John…” Sherlock is too choked up in his words to continue.

John’s words are caught in his throat, “Me too.” He puts his guitar on the floor and hugs Sherlock, kissing his forehead.

They finally lie together on the bed and sleep finds them quickly, and John falls asleep to one thought and one thought only_. I am in love with Sherlock Holmes. _

* * *

Close to him, Sherlock thinks about the song John sang. He knows the movie it came from and knows the songs, a part of him always loved musicals. John knows that, too. He sings slowly and softly, careful not to wake John.

_When we first met_

_I never thought that I would fall_

_I never thought that I'd find myself_

_Lying in your arms_

He skips a few lines and adds his own feelings.

_Don't wanna feel another touch_

_Don't wanna start another fire_

_Don't wanna know another kiss_

_No other name falling off my lips_

_Don't wanna give my heart away_

He finishes with another few lines.

_I don't wanna know this feeling_

_Unless it's you and me_

_I don't wanna waste a moment_

He stops when he realises John is awake.

“How much of that did you hear?” Sherlock inquires.

John replies, his voice groggy, he must have been on the verge of falling asleep but he listened to Sherlock, instead, “All of it. You have a beautiful voice, Sherlock. God… I feel the same way, Sherlock.”

Sherlock swallows the lump in his throat. He chuckles. “Horribly sentimental, this.”

“Yes… but putting things into words is not easy… British men that we are… Sherlock, I was awake because I didn’t want to fall asleep without telling you…” John swallows and takes a deep breath, making eye contact with Sherlock. This seems important. “I love you. And I know it’s quick, but at the same time, it’s not… Look, it’s just… When you love someone, you should tell them. I want you to know. I don’t want to wait. I don’t care if it’s too soon or if you don’t want to say it back. I love you and that’s how I feel.”

Sherlock is surprised, but pleasantly. He knows how he feels himself, he was just scared to say it too quickly. “I love you, too.”

And just like that, they fall asleep in each other’s arms.


	9. Chapter 9

At some point, the ‘honeymoon’ had to end. Time to go back to Hudson University and pretend that over the break, they did not have all that sex. John is now aware of everything that Sherlock is doing at Hudson University. John is also aware of James Moriarty, and how lifeless his eyes look. John will not let that guy even approach Sherlock if he can help it. They have made it through the first day back, and John is about to leave his office when a woman enters.   
  
The woman is clearly a professor, John could tell by how she looks. “Hello. I’m Sophia. I’ve just got a job in this department. I’ve been told to come see you.”

John doesn’t really know what to do or say, “Oh. Um. I don’t know what to… Nobody told me there would be a new professor. If you want the head of the department, it’s the other John.”

“Oh, so sorry. Well, thank you for your help.” Sophia is about to leave John’s office on that.

Just making his way into his office, Sherlock doesn’t seem to have noticed Sophia. “John, tonight, you and me, and ice cream hopefully.” Then Sherlock sees the woman in John’s office, “Oh, hello.”

Sophia looks confused, “Hello.” Sophia looks at John, “Who’s this? Is he the head of the department?”

John ought to clarify so the woman doesn’t ask him about anything, give it to Sherlock to deduce the woman and make her leave before her first day, “Oh, no. That’s Sherlock Holmes. Head of the Chemistry department.”

Sherlock seems to stand up taller, as if possible, and adds to John’s words, “And his boyfriend.”

John looks at Sherlock, very happy to confirm this, “And my boyfriend.” Sherlock smiles back and before they know it, Sophia is gone. Sherlock shuts the door.

Sherlock looks suspiciously at John, “She thought you were a fine specimen.”

John humours him, “I must be if you want me.”

Sherlock has fury in his eyes, “Oh, I want you. Do you want me?”

John decides to soothe Sherlock right now, “More than I ever thought possible to want another person.” John gives him a warm smile and Sherlock looks at him.

Sherlock says this, leaning down to whisper in John’s ear, holding to his wrists, “I don’t want to share. You’re mine.”

If it was possible for someone to melt, John would probably melt into a puddle right then and there. Looking right into Sherlock’s eyes, “Sherlock, I am yours,” and then without thinking better of it, he adds, “I’ll prove it to you.”

Something seems to click in Sherlock’s mind, his eyes now full of desire. “Right. Then let’s go home.”

_Going home_. How weird is it that Sherlock’s flat is already home for him? John loves it there. John winks playfully, “Take me home,” and to tease Sherlock a bit, “and then take me apart.”

Sherlock lets his voice drop low, “Oh John, I will.”

* * *

They finally stumble into Sherlock’s flat, kissing and trying to get into each other’s pants. Sherlock shuts the door and pins John to the door, in one swift motion. He is kissing John, pouring everything he has into it, to make John understand he will not share. He kisses John’s lips, allowing his tongue to swipe past, John’s mouth is so inviting he thinks he will lose control. But he doesn’t and remembers he wants to take John apart. He starts a trail of kisses on his cheek, to the spot behind his ear, then on his neck, on his throat where he sucks a wet spot. John’s knees buckle at this, John is panting already. Sherlock stops and looks at him, happy with what he’s done so far. He continues his assault, still kissing John’s neck and palms John through his trousers, realising how much John wants him. John truly does, and that is the most wonderful thing. John is moaning, panting, shivering, and Sherlock still continues. Sherlock is really good at compartmentalising, so ignoring his own arousal, for the time being, is no hardship.

“Sherlock, love, please take me to bed. I can’t feel my legs.” John pleads and to hell, that voice works on Sherlock.

Sherlock leads him to his bedroom, removing John’s shirt and jumper in the process. He pushes John onto the bed, still kissing him and palming John’s erection. John actually whimpers when Sherlock kisses and slowly bites one nipple. Sherlock takes pity on John and removes his own clothes and all of John’s, anyway what’s left of them. Sherlock knows that John loves seeing him naked. Sherlock will be able to continue his torture even more aptly now. Evidently, John looks and licks his lips. _That, that does things to Sherlock. John’s tongue wetting his lips_.

Sherlock smiles at that and kisses John’s belly, slowly going down. When Sherlock is facing John’s erection, he looks up and keeps eye contact with John, he finally opens his mouth to allow John’s cock inside. John closes his eyes at that moment and Sherlock understands, when John did this to him, Sherlock had to close his eyes too, or it would have ended right there. Sherlock is sucking John’s cock, very slowly and carefully, not wanting him to come too soon. He has other ideas before this can end. He licks up a stripe, from John’s balls to the head of his penis and gives a small suck there. John is shivering, and Sherlock knows he is too close. He stops this, retrieving lube from under the pillows. Sherlock had to keep lube in close proximity ever since he got with John. Sherlock flips John on his belly, allowing John to understand where this is going and stopping him if that’s not what he wants. John is humping the sheets, trying to find relief. Sherlock finds it utterly sensual. Then, his previous idea pops into his head and he excuses himself to retrieve the ice cream he bought especially for this. John isn’t as far gone when he comes back, but John is looking at Sherlock. Sherlock shows him the ice cream, and Sherlock pops the lid of the ice cream tub and puts his fingers in it, bringing them back to his mouth and tasting the wonderful ice cream. He moans, imagining John feeding it to him. John looks barely able to contain himself.

As seductive as ever, John asks, “May I have a taste, too?”

Sherlock sits near John’s back, John who’s still lying on his belly, how Sherlock put him. Sherlock flips him again and lets his fingers go back into the ice cream, putting his fingers in John’s mouth this time. John moans around Sherlock’s fingers and that surely goes right to his own cock. John sucks on Sherlock’s fingers, and Sherlock is almost lost. John looks at him and coats his own fingers in ice cream, then puts some on Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock would wince at the cold if he wasn’t this aroused. John gestures for Sherlock to get on his chest and Sherlock does, his knees under John’s armpits. Sherlock understands and sinks his cock into John’s already open and waiting mouth. John licks him clean of all the ice cream and Sherlock resists the urge of thrusting wantonly into John’s inviting mouth. Sherlock finally regains control, slipping his cock out and John looks hungry. Sherlock puts some ice cream in his mouth, slides down and kisses John, giving him some ice cream into the process. They moan at the sensation and soon, Sherlock decides to return to his plan.

Sherlock puts the ice cream on the night table and flips John back onto his belly. He kisses the back of John’s neck, his back, and gets to his wonderfully round arse. Sherlock kisses John’s bum, massaging it. John is a mess, he is panting, and humping the sheets again.

John’s voice is hungry and a bit shaky, “Sherlock, fuck, you might actually kill me. But if I die like this, I will die happy as hell.”

Sherlock pulls John’s cheeks apart and licks a stripe up John’s crack, making John’s hips buckle into the sheets once again. Sherlock is not relenting, kissing John’s hole the same way he would kiss John’s lips. John’s scent is so powerful, he could drown in it. Sherlock allows some tongue kissing, letting his tongue wet John’s hole and John is trembling, biting on his fist.

“John, be loud.” And those were the right words because John releases his fist and screams, “Fuck, Sherlock. Fuck me.” That goes to Sherlock’s cock, which gives a throb. He is aching, just like John.

Sherlock still kisses and licks, darting his tongue into John’s hole. He picks up the lube and coats his fingers, putting one finger in, and it goes so smoothly, he adds a second. When John’s body accepts the intrusion of a second finger so well, he puts a third finger in. Sherlock curves his fingers just so, and John seems lost. His prostate procuring him so much pleasure, Sherlock would know, “Fuck, fuck. Love, put that beautiful cock in me. I won’t last long.”

Sherlock coats himself in lube and makes John get on all four. John understands how this would be easier, so he lets his face fall into the pillows, using his hands to pull his cheeks apart for Sherlock. “Holy shit, John. This… Wow. Offering yourself to me like that.” Sherlock has to swallow past the emotion caught in his throat.

John sounds desperate, and he probably is as much as Sherlock, “Take me. Take me for crying out loud.”

And with that, Sherlock sinks into the warm and inviting space of John’s body. Slowly, letting John adjusts. When he is finally seated, he is shivering and John notices. John lets go of his arse, getting onto his hands. “I love you, so fucking much.”

Sherlock is fighting to keep it together, “John, stop talking, or it'll be over before I can help it.”

John laughs, giving Sherlock unexplainable sensations. “Move then.”

Sherlock starts thrusting and he is probably hurting John. He is holding so fiercely onto John’s hips, he will leave marks. He is thrusting with abandon, chasing his own release. Sherlock doesn’t want to come first and he knows he is very close. He frees one hand and starts stroking John’s cock. John is moaning loudly, Sherlock is as loud and clearly the whole building knows what’s happening in this flat. Sherlock is far from gentle, and John seems to love it.

Sherlock utters it, again and again, “You are mine,” and adds, in his coital voice, “only mine.”

John loses it at that and comes, and comes. Sherlock’s fingers are full of John’s come, just like the sheets. John is still shaking and Sherlock feels it, giving him one last thrust, he is coming and his vision goes dark. He falls onto John and holds onto him while he shakes through his own fantastic orgasm.

Their breathing is slowly coming back to normal, and Sherlock slips out of John. John winces and so does Sherlock, both sensitive. Sherlock is too content to move, so John gets up and finds a flannel to clean them up. “Sherlock, get up. I’ll remove the sheets. I don’t want to sleep in that mess.” Sherlock grunts, visibly tired. But he gets up and goes for a shower. Eventually, John joins him under the hot spray.

John smiles and looks at Sherlock like he is the most precious thing ever, “The sheets are clean and ready for us when we get out of here.”

“Thank you, John.”

John hugs Sherlock, letting his hands roam over his back. Sherlock turns them over so that John can get under the spray. John turns his back and lets water fall on his face and chest. Sherlock sees immediately that John’s hips are already an angry red.

Sherlock feels bad, worse than he thought possible at the idea of hurting John. “Oh, John. I’m sorry.”

John laughs it off, “Sorry for the most awesome sex I’ve ever had? Sorry for taking what you wanted?”

Sherlock is still upset, “But your hips?”

John shrugs, turns and looks at Sherlock, meaning every word. “Fucking worth it. God, Sherlock, I’d mark myself and tell the whole world I’m yours.”

Sherlock says it again. “You are mine.”

John kisses Sherlock briefly, “And you’re mine.”

Sherlock could cry of happiness. “Yes. No one else, ever. Just you, John,” and then a question pops into his head, “is it always this earth-shattering?”

“Sherlock Holmes, using earth-shattering in a sentence. I never thought I’d see the day.” John is mocking him but understands the question. “No, Sherlock. Sex can be very boring.”

Sherlock is confused. “But you and me…?”

John kisses the top of Sherlock’s nose. “You and me, that is a magical combination because we love each other.”

Sherlock is happy with this and they get out of the shower. Clean and finally dry, they put on pants and they go to bed. Sherlock rests in John’s arms.

“I love you so much it hurts, not being able to put it into the right words.”

Sherlock, who was on his phone, strikes up a selfie of both of them lying in bed. Sherlock never thought he would this sentimental, but he needs to remember this. Sherlock knows he’s bound to mess this up, whether by his lack of social skills or his lack of experience in matters of the heart. John doesn’t seem to mind. John even actually smiled for the photo. Now Sherlock has a picture to remember that this is real.

Sherlock ought to clarify the purpose of this, “I needed this. I need to know this is real.”

John doesn’t mention it, seems to understand. He kisses the top of Sherlock’s head.

Sherlock hugs him tighter. “I love you. I hope you always remember that.”

John takes a big breath, measuring the right words. “How could I forget that the most amazing man I have ever met loves me?” and thinks about it before adding, “Send me the picture. I want to have it, too. It’ll be my wallpaper. Every time I look at my phone, you’ll be there.”

Sherlock mocks him in his own way, “Ever the romantic.”

John smiles and deposits another kiss, on Sherlock’s forehead, still holding him tight. “With you? Always.”

And with the promise of always, they both fall asleep.


End file.
